Quotes About Impermanence

This landscape is animate: it moves, transposes, builds, proceeds, shifts, always going on, never coming back, and one can only retain it in vignettes, impressions caught in a flash, flipped through in succession, leaving a richness of images imprinted on a sunburned retina.

O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, That draws oblivion's curtains over kings; Their sumptuous monuments, men know them not, Their names without a record are forgot, Their parts, their ports, their pomps all laid in th' dust Nor wit nor gold, nor buildings scape time's rust; But he whose name is graved in the white stone Shall last and shine when all of these are gone.

As for me, I am a watercolor. I wash off.

Evil is only imperfection, that which is not complete, which is becoming, but has not yet found its end.

Certainly a curtain has never fallen too soon for me. Every play is too long, even the short ones. Every concert, every film, every television programme the same.

You're never promised your next breath.

Even catastrophes grow weary, No wind can keep blasting all the time. And great happiness in the end falters. Yes, all is change.

Nothing comes back. The eye sees for a moment, the ear hears, but look, now it is gone.

You remind me of a smoked cigarette.

You can't live forever; you can't live forever.

I want it to smell of magnolias instead of peanuts and I want my shoes to crunch on the same gravel that Lee's boots crunched on. There's no beauty without poignancy and there's no poignancy without the feeling that it's going, men, names, books, houses--bound for dust--mortal--

There's no beauty without poignancy and there's no poignancy without the feeling that it's going, men, names, books, houses—bound for dust—mortal—

Young Anthony had one picture of his father and mother together—so often had it faced his eyes in childhood that it had acquired the impersonality of furniture, but every one who came into his bedroom regarded it with interest.

Anthony for the moment wanted fiercely to paint her, to set her down now, as she was, as with each relentless second she could never be again. 'What were you thinking?' she asked. 'Just that I'm not a realist,' he said, and then: 'No, only the romanticist preserves the things worth preserving.

He stretched out his had desperately as if to snatch only a wisp of air, to save a fragment of the spot that she (Daisy) had made lovely for him. But it was all going by too fast now for his blurred eyes and he knew that he had lost that part of it, the freshest and the best, forever.

You can't live forever, you can't live forever.

forever wed his unutterable visions to her perishable breath

The world of dew is, yes, a world of dew, but even so

A fallen blossom returning to the bough, I thought — But no, a butterfly. SDC aoyagi no / mayu kaku kishi no / hitai kana2 Green willows Paint eyebrows on the face of the cliff CAC

As I walk, I construct perfect sentences that I cannot remember later at home. I don't know if the ineffable poetry of those sentences derived from what they were or from their never having been (written).

Queen, goodbye forever! Your wings were sunbeams, and my feet are clay I'll never be well if I don't get to bed I never was well unless I was stretched out across the universe.

May the Gods all preserve for me (until my present form ceases) this clear and sunlit view of external reality, the instinctive awareness of my unimportance, the cosiness of being small, and the solace of being able to imagine myself happy.

As bolas de sabão que esta criança Se entretém a largar de uma palhinha São translucidamente uma filosofia toda.

Nada fica de nada. Nada somos. Um pouco ao sol e ao ar nos atrasamos Da irrespirável treva que nos pese Da húmida terra imposta, Cadáveres adiados que procriam. Leis feitas, 'státuas vistas, odes findas - Tudo tem cova sua. Se nós, carnes A que um íntimo sol dá sangue, temos Poente, porque não elas? Somos contos contando contos, nada.