Quotes About Impermanence

We existed moment to moment, never knowing who would be the next to leave this world.

We built a perfect little cottage out of sand with the help of Farley's tin and the rusting bucket, and some lichen we peeled from rocks for window-box flowers. We left it there all day, and when the tide came up, the waves refused to disturb it, only lapping away at the foundation enough to cement it more firmly to the beach.

Fall leaves are brilliant with gold and red. You can cup them in your hand and wonder at them, be amazed at their uniqueness and glory. But eventually they are gone, brown, crumbling, scattered on the wind. But the tree remains. The tree is what is important. The tree lives on. That was a difficult knowledge to bear, and an even more difficult life to live. Of course, being the leaf wasn't exactly desirable either.

It comes down to practice, and practice, after all, is conduct in keeping with Right Views. Of course, Right Views are not merely opinions, not even Sk?kyamuni's opinions, but are views that accord with this realization: we are all in this together and we aren't here very long. Let's take care of one another while we can.

Jazz has endured because it doesn't have a beginning or an ending. It's a moment.

The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost.

But pleasures are like poppies spread—You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed;Or like the snow falls in the river—A moment white—then melts forever.

Now go and brag of thy present happiness, whosoever thou art, brag of thy temperature, of thy good parts, insult, triumph, and boast; thou seest in what a brittle state thou art, how soon thou mayst be dejected, how many several ways, by bad diet, bad air, a small loss, a little sorrow or discontent, an ague, &c.; how many sudden accidents may procure thy ruin, what a small tenure of happiness thou hast in this life, how weak and silly a creature thou art.

Let us look at the pedestrians in any busy city and realize that in ninety years it is likely that none of them will be alive, including us. Think of the millions and billions who have already come and gone, buried and long forgotten, rich and poor alike.

Those intricate curves and patterns your people create are beyond human eyes and hands to make. Perhaps we wished to avoid a poor imitation that would only have been an ever-present reminder to us of what we had lost. There is a different beauty in simplicity, in a single line placed just so, a single flower among the rocks. The harshness of the stone makes the flower more precious. We try not to dwell too much on what is gone. The strongest heart will break under that strain.

All things change. Until we wake, the dream drifts on the wind.

The rumpled bed was the only proof that anyone had stayed here. Already the room had lost the feel of him; it even seemed to smell empty, despite his own scent on the sheets. He never stayed anywhere long enough to make that feel cling past his readiness to leave. Never long enough to put down roots, make it any kind of home.

Karena hal-hal yang dapat dilihat dapat berakhir, tetapi hal-hal yang tidak terlihat tetap abadi. -Anne-

all vessels leaked to some degree.

When every page has been read and the book has been put down, is the story over? Some stories flow onward through the reader's imagination. Some authors leave playgrounds for the reader's mind

You might from that vantage point go back and study impermanence with the other contemplations, seeing that the breath itself, for instance, arises and passes away.

You see that in a certain sense content doesn't matter, because whatever it is passes away.

It is unintelligent to try to hold on to things, to freeze them, when we can't.

Rotten wood cannot be carved. —Confucius

It was all real and blazing with detail. But I was shadow, light as mist, mute as the wallpaper.

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that this was a moment to pay attention to: this day, this air, these two people. I felt the perfection of the moment and, inside of it, I felt its demise.

Não há múmias, pedaços de tecido colados ao osso, medas de sal ou cadáveres que jamais estivessem nem metade dos mortos que estamos hoje.

Good and bad, happy and sad, all thoughts vanish into emptiness like the imprint of a bird in the sky.

At least half of your mind is always thinking, I'll be leaving; this won't last. It's a good Buddhist attitude. If I were a Buddhist, this would be a great help. As it is, I'm just sad.