Ephemeral Nature Quotes

States that rise quickly, just as all the other things of nature that are born and grow rapidly, cannot have roots and ramifications; the first bad weather kills them

We're all just passing time and occupy our chair very briefly.

Nothing is lasting but change; nothing perpetual but death.

Editing is agonizing, fretting over facts; it’s not virtue-signaling or confusing the ephemeral with the eternal. Unless we can tell the difference between the meaningful and the meaningless, the material and the immaterial, we will be lost in illogic.

In the long run we are all dead.

If things were not impermanent, life would not be possible.

All your seriousness is about sandcastles. And you yourself will leave them one day, trampling them down, and you will not look back. The people who take it seriously miss the beauty of playfulness.

Like the dew on the mountain, like the foam on the river, like the bubble on the fountain, thou art gone, and for ever!

There is only this now. It does not come from anywhere; it is not going anywhere. It is not permanent, but it is not impermanent. Though moving, it is always still. When we try to catch it, it seems to run away, and yet it is always here and there is no escape from it. And when we turn around to find the self which knows this moment, we find that it has vanished like the past.

Genius, indeed, melts many ages into one, and thus effects something permanent, yet still with a similarity of office to that of the more ephemeral writer. A work of genius is but the newspaper of a century, or perchance of a hundred centuries.

The years have gone by quickly. Death sits in the seat next to me. We make a lovely couple.

The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.

everything changes, nothing perishes

Robert, you are just a transient. I have seen them come and I have seen them go and I’ll be here long after you have gone.

Beauty is a short-lived tyranny.

What falls away is always. And is near.

All things are subject to decay and change.

Words are cold, muddy toads trying to understand sprites dancing in a field-but they're all we have.

Nothing endures, nothing is precise and certain (except the mind of a pedant), perfection is the mere repudiation of that ineluctable marginal inexactitude which is the mysterious inmost quality of Being

It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words, "And this too, shall pass away." How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!

Words writ in waters.

Nothing is permanent. The only thing any of us have in common is the inevitable.

A generation of men is like a generation of leaves; the wind scatters some leaves upon the ground, while others the burgeoning wood brings forth - and the season of spring comes on. So of men one generation springs forth and another ceases.

That nothing is static or fixed, that all is fleeting and impermanent, is the first mark of existence. It is the ordinary state of affairs. Everything is in process. Everything - every tree, every blade of grass, all the animals, insects, human beings, buildings, the animate and the inanimate - is always changing, moment to moment.

Everything transitory is but an image.