Dean Koontz Quotes

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

Nothing gold can stay.

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

Snapshots, moments, mere seconds: as fragile and beautiful and hopeless as a single butterfly, flapping on against a gathering wind.

Death is an endless night so awful to contemplate that it can make us love life and value it with such passion that it may be the ultimate cause of all joy and all art.

Loveliest of lovely things are they on earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.

Flowers are without hope. Because hope is tomorrow and flowers have no tomorrow.

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?

Life is like a fire. Flames which the passer-by forgets. Ashes which the wind scatters. A man lived.

Life is a bubble in a lake, that glitters for an instant, bursts, and leaves not even a blur on the water; it is the leap of a minnow, which sends a tiny ripple trembling for a few inches.

Look round and round upon this bare bleak plain, and see even here, upon a winter's day, how beautiful the shadows are! Alas! It is the nature of their kind to be so. The loveliest things in life... are but shadows; and they come and go, and change and fade away, as rapidly as these.

Life was so short; so many beautiful things slipped away.

Life is short. If you doubt me, ask a butterfly. Their average life span is a mere five to fourteen days.

And one day we will die and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea. But for now we are young; let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see.

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.

Beautiful is the bloom of youth, but it lasts only for a short time.

Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

A life is a moment in season. A life is one snowfall. A life is one autumn day. A life is the delicate, rapid edge of a closing door's shadow. A life is a brief movement of arms and of legs.

Men pass in front of our eyes like butterflies, creatures of a brief season. We love them; they are brave, proud, beautiful, and clever.

They know these mornings well and love them desperately because they cannot last - these people who know that nothing lasts.

A butterfly flitting from flower to flower ever remains mine, I lose the one that is netted by me.