Quotes About Impermanence

I know life well enough to know you can't count on things staying around or standing still, no matter how much you want them to. You can't stop people from dying. You can't stop them from going away. You can't stop yourself from going away either. I know myself well enough to know that no one else can keep you awake or keep you from sleeping.

How is a person supposed to prepare for what happens tomorrow when there's just no figuring out today?

For a minute there it was really good. It was really, really good. Wasn't it good? Maybe really, really good things aren't meant to last for too long; maybe that's what makes them all the more sweet, the temporariness of them.

Things feel like they'll be forever, but they aren't. Love can go away, or people can, without even meaning to. Nothing is guaranteed.

Maybe really, really good things aren't meant to last for long; maybe that's what makes them all the more sweet, the temporariness of them.

Maybe really, really good things aren't meant to last for too long; maybe that's what makes them all the more sweet, the temporariness of them.

The Buddhists say that wisdom may be attained by reaching the three marks. The first is an understanding of the absence of self. The second is an understanding of the impermanence of all things. The third is an understanding of the unsatisfactory nature of ordinary experience.

Breathing in, I know that I am of the nature to grow old. Breathing out, I know that I cannot escape old age. Breathing in, I know that I am of the nature to get sick. Breathing out, I know that I cannot escape sickness. Breathing in, I know that I am of the nature to die. Breathing out, I know that I cannot escape dying. Breathing in, I know that one day I will have to let go of everything and everyone I love. Breathing out, I know there is no way to bring them along.

Works of art often last forever, or nearly so. But exhibitions themselves, especially gallery exhibitions, are like flowers they bloom and then they die, then exist only as memories, or pressed in magazines and books.

She was elusive. She was today. She was tomorrow.

We deceive ourselves into thinking life is long, but fire reminds us—it is a flickering. Life is a flickering—and then it is gone. So, we must make the most of it.

We deceive ourselves into thinking life is long, but fire reminds us-it is flickering. Life is a flickering-and then it is gone. So, we must make the most of it. Fire is red. It is yellow. It is blue. It is black as ash, brown as seared lines on timbers. Fire is the pink of flesh, and the gray of smoke that trails. Fire is the all-color that dwells before color, that which comes when one feels a fire will be set...

You cannot step twice in the same river--Heraclitus

Beyond this our life did not extend. And of this nothing remains.

Given the transient nature of life, given its ceaseless flux, there is more than a hint of arrogance in the assumption that we can make our relationships permanent, and that security can actually be fixed.

No one can confidently say that he will still be living tomorrow.

But at my back I always hearTime's winged chariot hurrying near;And yonder all before us lieDeserts of vast eternity.

But at my back I always hear Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.

You are a human being. And that's and unstable condition that ends badly for all of us.

Joey told me nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was, that things expand and contract – like breathing, but you could never fill your lungs up with the same air twice.

You know, nothing ever goes back exactly the way it was. Things just expand and contract. Like the universe, like breathing. But you'll never fill your lungs up with the same air twice. Sometimes, it would be cool if you could pause and rewind and do over. But I think anyone would get tired of that after one or two times.

Life is a breath, a passing breeze; a blade of grass, green and vibrant for a time, only to wither, die, and disappear. Soon you will be dead.

The inflated imitations of gold and silver, which after the rapture are thrown into the fire, all is exhausted and dissipated by the debt. All scrips and bonds are wiped out. At the fourth pillar dedicated to Saturn, split by earthquake and flood: vexing everyone, an urn of gold is found and then restored.

Life is a wave, which in no two consecutive moments of its existence is composed of the same particles.