The things that have come into being change continually. The man with a good memory remembers nothing because he forgets nothing.
No court can make time stand still.
Even Castles made of sand, fall into the sea, eventually.
Forms disappear, words remain, to signify the impossible.
Whatever is a reality today, whatever you touch and believe in and that seems real for you today, is going to be - like the reality of yesterday - an illusion tomorrow.
What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself.
The world exists to end up in a book.
I try desperately to conquer the transitory nature of my existence, to trap moments before they evenesce, to untangle the confusion of my past. Every instant disappears in a breath and immediately becomes the past; reality is ephemeral and changing, pure longing.
