Quotes About Permanence

Walls and stones may fall in the wind when it blows like a Thracian torrent, but a god stands forever

What lasts, what endures, as Shakespeare knew, is this: the story of a life. No more, no less.

We may just be specters in this world, but our stories, if they are remembered and retold, become real and solid and alive... Once you hear a story, it becomes part of you. It can't die.

Once you hear a story, it becomes part of you. It can't die.

Quiet is no certain pledge of permanence and safety. Trees may flourish and flowers may bloom upon the quiet mountain side, while silently the trickling rain-drops are filling the deep cavern behind its rocky barriers, which, by and by, in a single moment, shall hurl to wild ruin its treacherous peace.

He was right, after all; it didn't leave a scar, though part of me wishes it had. At least I'd have some evidence, some justification of this permanence. Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.

But then Mason touches my neck, to the spot on it where the cut from that night has since healed, and I pull away. He was right, after all; it didn't leave a scar, though part of me wishes it had. At least I'd have some evidence, some justification of this permanence. Stains are even worse when you're the only one who can see them.

Forever and a day.

It's something that never comes off, no matter how much you might want it to." "You're comparing love to a…stain?" He leans so far back in his seat that the front legs of his chair scrape off the floor. He looks very satisfied, with the crepe or with himself, I'm not sure. "Exactly.

Él tenía razón, después de todo; no dejó una cicatriz, aunque parte de mí desearía que lo hubiese hecho. Por lo menos tendría alguna evidencia, alguna justificación de esta permanencia. Las manchas son aún peores cuando eres el único que puede verlas.

Forever and One day

If gold ruste, what shal iren do?

If gold rusts, what then can iron do?

Believe me, the world always was, and always will be the same, as long as men are men.

Oh, may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again.

All books are merely delayed dust.

Everything goes past like a river and the changing taste and the various shapes of men make the whole game uncertain and delusive. Where do I find fixed points in nature, which cannot be moved by man, and where I can indicate the markers by the shore to which he ought to adhere?

are—and yet refer to something permanent, which must, therefore, be distinct from all my representations and external to me, the existence

It is not time that passes, but the existence of what is changable that passes in time.

Things, things, they outlive us and go to scenes that we know nothing of.

It had occurred, it had happened , and could never in his life be unhappened, never removed, a huge deadly black scar lasting forever.

Only stories and magic really endure.

And now in her deep heart an even sharper pain was stirring, a pain which would stay with her always.

Changelessness is decay. A paradox. There is no decay without a change for the worse. Changelessness is a change for the worse