Paulo Coelho Quotes

Everything is about to disappear. You've got to hurry up if you still want to see things.

Things always seem to glide away. They come to you, stay a moment, then leave again.

Every spirit passing through the world fingers the tangible and mars the mutable and finally has come to look and not to buy. So shoes are worn and hassocks are sat upon and finally everything is left where it was and the spirit passes on, just as the wind in the orchard picks up the leaves from the ground as if there were no other pleasure in the world but brown leaves, as if it would deck, clothe, flesh itself in flourishes of dusty brown apple leaves and then drops them all in a heap at the side of the house and goes on.

Because beautiful things never last. Not roses nor snow… And not fireworks, either

You have to hurry up if you want to see something, everything disappears.

Nature's first green is gold, Her hardest hue to hold. Her early leaf's a flower; But only so an hour. Then leaf subsides to leaf. So Eden sank to grief, So dawn goes down to day. Nothing gold can stay.

Everything changes. The more I try to hold on to the moment, the more it slips through my fingers.

The world changes too fast. You take your eyes off something that's always been there, and the next minute it's just a memory.

Things pass us by. Nobody can catch them. That's the way we live our lives.

Every thing that grows / Holds in perfection but a little moment.

Nothing gold can stay.

Life is a stream On which we strew Petal by petal the flower of our heart; The end lost in dream, They float past our view, We only watch their glad, early start. Freighted with hope, Crimsoned with joy, We scatter the leaves of our opening rose; Their widening scope, Their distant employ, We never shall know. And the stream as it flows Sweeps them away, Each one is gone Ever beyond into infinite ways. We alone stay While years hurry on, The flower fared forth, though its fragrance still stays.

The morning Sunne never lasts a day.

Not to hope for things to last forever, is what the year teaches and even the hour which snatches a nice day away.

And you're sorry that the ephemeral beauty has faded so rapidly, so irretrievably, that it flashed so deceptively and pointlessly before your eyes - you're sorry, for you didn't even have time to fall in love.

What came is gone forever every time

Beautiful things never last. That’s why fireflies flash.

A journey is a gesture inscribed in space, it vanishes even as it's made. You go from one place to another place, and on to somewhere else again, and already behind you there is no trace that you were ever there.

Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.

These flowers, which were splendid and sprightly, waking in the dawn of the morning, in the evening will be a pitiful frivolity, sleeping in the cold night's arms.

Life forms illogical patterns. It is haphazard and full of beauties which I try to catch as they fly by, for who knows whether any of them will ever return?

We build statues out of snow, and weep to see them melt.

Suddenly, as rare things will, it vanished.

The Flower that once has blown forever dies.

Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; a flower that dies when it begins to bud; a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.