Quotes About Impermanence

our world is no more permanent than a wave rising on the ocean. Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper.

Zar život nije ništa drugo do oluja koja stalno odnosi ono što je još samo trenutak ranije bilo tu i ostavlja za sobom tek nešto ogoljelo i neprepoznatljivo?

But now I know that our world is no more permanent than a wave rising on the ocean. Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper.

Kakve god bile naše muke i naše pobede, kako god ih mi propratili, sve one vrlo brzo izblede, kao mastilo na papiru.

Happily I didn't see her after she'd died, except for her legs, which were visible from the doorway and looked like slender tree limbs wrapped in wrinkled silk.

Jetzt aber weiss ich, dass unsere Welt nich bestaendiger ist als eine Woge im Ozean. All unsere Muehen und Triumphe, wie wir sie auch erleben, zerlaufen zu einem Wasserfleck. Genau wie waessrige Tusche auf Papier.

ora so che il nostro mondo è tanto instabile quanto un'onda che si innalza in mezzo all'oceano. Quali che siano stati i nostri conflitti e i nostri trionfi, per quanto indelebile sia il segno che questi abbiano potuto lasciare su di noi, finiscono sempre per stemperarsi come una tinta ad acquerello su un foglio di carta.

Was life nothing more than a storm that constantly washed away what had been there only a moment before

Sekarang aku tahu bahwa dunia kita sama tidak permanennya dengan ombak yang timbul di lautan. Apapun perjuangan dan kemenangan kita, betapapun kita menderita karenanya, segera saja semuanya akan merembes menyatu, seperti tinta yang tumpah ke kertas.

Oare viaÈ›a nu era decât o furtun? care È™tergea urmele a ceea ce fusese o clip? mai înainte, l?sând în urm? un pustiu de nerecunoscut?

But now I know that our world is no more permanent than a wave rising on the ocean. Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper. Arthur

I know that our world is no more permanent than a wave rising on the ocean. Whatever our struggles and triumphs, however we may suffer them, all too soon they bleed into a wash, just like watery ink on paper.

Pero ahora sé que nuestro mundo no es nunca más permanente que una ola que se eleva sobre el océano. Cualesquiera que sean nuestras luchas y nuestras victorias, comoquiera que las padezcamos, enseguida desaparecen en la corriente, como la tinta acuosa sobre el papel.

And then, it is all one whether he has been happy or miserable; for his life was never anything more than a present moment always vanishing; and now it is over.

Time is that by virtue of which everything becomes nothingness in our hands and loses all real value.

A vida é como uma bola de sabão, que conservamos e sopramos tanto quanto for possível, porém com a firme certeza de que ela irá estourar.

Wir sind eben bloß zeitliche, endliche, vergängliche, traumartige, wie Schatten vorüberfliegende Wesen. Und was sollte denen ein Intellekt, der unendliche, ewige, absolute Verhältnisse fasste?

Ja vi?a grib?tu, lai piepild?s k?da maza v?l?šan?s, t? b?tu- Nezin?t. Nezin?t, ko katra diena vi?ai sniegs. Nezin?t, kur vi?a b?s r?t, n?kamaj? m?nes? vai gad?. P?c desmit gadiem. Nezin?t, k? vi?as ce?š pagriez?sies un kas gaida aiz l?kuma.

Jis sar ko ghurur aaj hai yaan taj-vari ka Kal uss pe yahin shor hai phir nauhagari ka The head which today proudly flaunts a crown Will tomorrow, right here, in lamentation drown

How can you really miss something when you never experienced it?

This is how it works: Someone has a vision that arises from a fierce and passionate love. To make it real, we must love every moment of what we do. Impermanent spirals embed themselves in asphalt, concrete, dust. Slowly, slowly, they eat into the foundations of the structures of power. Deep transformations take time. Regeneration arises from decay. Si, se puede! It can be done.

It's so hard to explain what the dead really want. Not to be alive again, heavens no, never that: a passenger buckled into that depreciating vehicle of the body, that cramped one-seater with its structural flaws and piss-poor mileage, its failures and betrayals, its worn, nonfunctioning, irreplaceable parts.

Each time something contingent and impermanent is raised to the status of something necessary and permanent, a devil is created. Whether it be an ego, a nation-state, or a religious belief, the result is the same. The distortion severs such things from their embeddedness in the complexities, fluidities, and ambiguities of the world and make them appear as simple, fixed, and unambiguous entities with the power to condemn or save us.

The collapsing of an empire. This changing word moves inexorably on. Thoughts bubble and the stiller the mind the more palpable the dazzling torrent of life becomes.