fleeting passion Quotes

Love is like a dying ember, only memories remain.

They sin who tell us Love can die: with Life all other passions fly, all others are but vanity.

Were all first loves like that? Somehow she doubted it; even now it struck her as being more real than anything she'd ever known. Sometimes it saddened her to think that she'd never experience that kind of feeling again, but then life had a way of stamping out that intensity of passion; she'd learned all too well that love wasn't always enough.

We no longer love our knowledge enough once we have passed it on.

Relationships that begin in passion's raging fire often end in the coldest ashes.

But, though I was very much in lust with him, I knew from the start we were nothing like "forever." Maybe because forever is such a scary place.

A blaze of love and extinction, was better than a lantern glimmer of the same which should last long years.

Stick Boy liked Match Girl, He liked her a lot. He liked her cute figure, he thought she was hot. But could a flame ever burn for a match and a stick? It did quite literally; he burned up quick.

Mortal lovers must not try to remain at the first step; for lasting passion is the dream of a harlot and from it we wake in despair.

Romance is an illusion. Well, romance is not a complete illusion, but it's ephemeral. It does not last.

I suppose a fire that burns that bright is not meant to last.

But new love only lasts so long, and then you crash back into the real people you are, and from as high as we were, it's a very long fall, and we hit the ground with a thud.

You had better love the music... because sometimes the music doesn't love you.

Methinks I am a prophet new inspired And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, For violent fires soon burn out themselves; Small show'rs last long, but sudden storms are short; He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding doth choke the feeder; Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.

Interestingly, anger and lust are also elusive states once they have passed. Trying to recall why you were angry about something when you've calmed down is like trying to remember why you were in love with someone who no longer attracts you: the initial impulse triggering the emotion is impossible to recapture.

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

It is the difference betwixt lust and love that this is fixed, that volatile. Love grows, lust wastes by enjoyment.

If men refuse to be kindled, sparks can only burn themselves out, just as paper images and carriages burn out on the street during funerals.

Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate

O, spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!

Admiration is a very short lived passion that immediately decays upon growing familiar with its object, unless it still be fed with fresh discoveries, and kept alive by a new perpetual succession of miracles rising up to its view.

A friendship will be young after the lapse of half a century; a passion is old at the end of three months.

I am enthralled until the last ball Djokovic hits, and the moment it is over and he is on his knees eating grass, I sink into my chair, cannot believe I have spent another fleeting fortnight of the few summers I have left caring about the outcome of contests I will have forgotten in the blink of an eye, and begin to question my sanity.

He was like a shooting star you tried to catch with your hands. She would only get burned.