Quotes About Permanence

Art is long, and the talk about it is even longer.

Art is not disposable.

Art is long, and critics are the insects of a day.

We will die, but art will remain.

Architecture approaches nearer than any other art to being irrevocable because it is so difficult to get rid of.

I will say that art may well be the only thing that lasts, so I guess it's worth trying.

Perpetual modernness is the measure of merit in every work of art.

The best thing about Art is that the people who create it live forever.

History repeats itself but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.

It's only forever, not long at all

Even in dying, a Thennanin ship was reputed to be not worth putting out of its misery. In battle they were slow, unmaneuverable—and as hard to disable permanently as a cockroach.

Act in Haste, Repent at Leisure would seem to have been almost custom-designed for the case of tattoos.

jailhouse tatts always look like they were done by sadistic children on rainy afternoons.

Die for one person? This is a craziness. Persons change, leave, die, become ill. They leave, lie, go mad, have sickness, betray you, die. Your nation outlives you. A cause outlives you.

In the end, today is forever, yesterday is still today, and tomorrow is already today.

The person of a man may go, but the best part of him stays. It stays forever.

The person of a man may leave—or be taken away—but the best part of a good man stays. It stays forever. Love is immortal and makes all things immortal. But hate dies every minute.

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Coal-black is better than another hue, In that it scorns to bear another hue; For all the water in the ocean Can never turn the swan's black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come: Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

There are no permanent things, only fleeting moments of warmth and companionship, precious stationary seconds in a flicker of troubled days.

Ross thought, There are no permanent things, only fleeting moments of warmth and companionship, precious stationary seconds in a flicker of troubled days.

Tradition is the illusion of permanence.