Quotes About Transience

Like everything else that doesn't last, today is gone now, but it was a pretty good day.

She waves her arms at the world. "It's all just time filler until we die.

This is what happens when people die. They start to disappear if you don't watch it. Not all at once, but a piece here, a piece there.

Like everything else that doesn't last, today is gone now, but it was a pretty good day. The best I've had in months.

Like everything else that doesn't last, today is gone now, but it was a pretty good day.

In secret pleasure — secret tears This changeful life has slipped away

Catherine's face was just like the landscape—shadows and sunshine flitting over it in rapid succession; but the shadows rested longer, and the sunshine was more transient.

Perhaps such fragile happiness could never have lasted, but the way it came to an end was worse than anyone could have imagined.

That it will never come again is what makes life so sweet

Forever is composed of nows. Das 'Für immer' besteht aus vielen 'jetzt'.

They dropped like flakes, they dropped like stars, Like petals from a rose, When suddenly across the lune A wind with fingers goes. They perished in the seamless grass, No eye could find the place; But God on his repealless list Can summon every face

We all have moments with the dust, but the dew is given.

Though it may never come again is what makes it so sweet.

XXXVII. The dying need but little, dear, —    A glass of water's all, A flower's unobtrusive face    To punctuate the wall, A fan, perhaps, a friend's regret,    And certainly that one No color in the rainbow    Perceives when you are gone.

Forever is composed of nows

Poor little heart! Did they forget thee? Then dinna care! Then dinna care! Proud little heart! Did they forsake thee? Be debonair! Be debonair! Frail little heart! I would not break thee: Could'st credit me? Could'st credit me? Gay little heart! Like morning glory Thou'll wilted be; thou'll wilted be!

That it will never come again is what makes life sweet

Il sempre è fatto di attimi.

When roses cease to bloom, dear

So unsuspected violets Within the fields lie low, Too late for striving fingers That passed, an hour ago.

La genciana trenza sus bordes, el telar del arce está rojo. Mis flores moribundas eluden la ostentación.

Some things that fly there be, — Birds, hours, the bumble-bee:

She gets sick of things fast, it's from being an adult.

Do not get too attached to life] for it is like a sailor's leave on the shore and at any time, the captain may sound the horn, calling you back to eternal darkness.