Quotes About Impermanence

It seems there's nothing so good or pure it can't be taken without a moment's notice. And then in the end, it all gets taken anyway.

It seems there's nothing so good or pure it cant be taken without a moment's notice. And then in the end, it all gets taken anyway.

It was becoming clear to me that I shouldn't bother to get too attached to anything. Turn your back and you lose it. Just like that.

Look. We both know life is short, Macy. Too short to waste a single second with anyone who doesn't appreciate and value you. You said the other day life was long, I shot back. Which is it? It's both, she said, shrugging. It all depends on how you choose to live it. It's like forever, always changing. Nothing can be two opposite things at once, I said. It's impossible. No, she replied, squeezing my hand, what's impossible is that we actually think it could be anything OTHER than that.

I knew that it wouldn't last. It was just a moment, a perfect moment, as time stood still and fleetingly everything fell back into its proper place.

It was hard to remember what the yard had looked like even twelve hours before, undisturbed and pristine. Like it takes so little to change something, but to make you forget the way it once was, as well.

Everything that happens is the last time it happens. We see things only as their own fatal brightness and there is nothing after that brightness.

Incerc sa le explic parintilor mei ca viata e un dar buclucas. La început ai tendinta sa-l supraestimezi crezand ca viata pe care ai primit-o este vesnica. Apoi, dimpotriva, il subestimezi, gasind ca-i o porcarie, scurta de nu-ntelegi nimic din ea si pe care uneori ti-ar veni s-o arunci de sa nu se vada. Abia catre sfarsit pricepi ca nu-i vorba de nici un dar, ci de un simplu imprumut. Pe care trebuie sa incerci sa-l meriti.

And you know, these things don't last forever.' I know, Mandy. Nothing does.' That's the spirit.

Ah, God! but Art is long, And Life, alas! is fleeting.

All things transitory But as symbols are sent.

Denn alles muß in Nichts zerfallen, wenn es im Sein beharren will.

Ihr naht euch wieder, schwankende Gestalten, Die früh sich einst dem trüben Blick gezeigt. Versuch ich wohl, euch diesmal festzuhalten? Fühl ich mein Herz noch jenem Wahn geneigt? Ihr drängt euch zu! nun gut, so mögt ihr walten, Wie ihr aus Dunst und Nebel um mich steigt; Mein Busen fühlt sich jugendlich erschüttert Vom Zauberhauch, der euren Zug umwittert.

O, atât de pieritor e omul, încât chiar acolo unde are certitudinea c? existen?a lui înseamn? ceva, acolo unde las? cu adev?rat urma prezen?ei lui în amintirea, în sufletul celor care îi sunt dragi, chiar ?i acolo urma aceasta trebuie s? se sting? ?i s? dispar?, ?i asta atât de curând!

Oh, man is so transient that even where he is really certain of his existence, even where he makes the one true impression of his presence, in the memory, in the soul of his dear ones, even there must he disappear, be extinguished, and that so soon!

Var! diyebilir misin? Her ?ey gelip geçmiyor mu? Her ?ey, rüzgâr gibi, yan?m?zdan esip uçmuyor mu? Her ?ey.. "

her ?ey gelip geçmiyor mu? her ?eyin, varolu?uyla birlikte sahip oldu?u gücü sonuna kadar tüketme f?rsat?n? bulmas? ender de?il midir? her ?ey, ak?nt?ya kap?l?yor, bat?r?l?yor ve kayalarda parçalanm?yor mu?

You will die, and I, and all we can create—why not a city? But if there is one thing that deserves to be immortal, it is knowledge.

The dharma teaches us the impermanence of all phenomena, but you cannot prepare yourself for the loss of the phenomenon you love more than yourself.

You don't have to be the Dalai Lama to tell people that life's about change.

A little later, remembering man's earthly origin, 'dust thou art and to dust thou shalt return,' they liked to fancy themselves bubbles of earth. When alone in the fields, with no one to see them, they would hop, skip and jump, touching the ground as lightly as possible and crying 'We are bubbles of earth! Bubbles of earth! Bubbles of earth!' —Flora Thompson, Lark Rise

Already he found himself forgetting that something like an occluded front seemed to have swept over his memories of Sylvie, which he had thought as hard and changeless as anything he owned, but which when he touched them now seemed to have turned to autumn leaves like fairy gold, turned to wet earth, staghorn, snails' shells, fauns' feet.

We constantly need to be reminded not to attach to anything.

GO AND CATCH A FALLING STAR.