Veronica Roth Quotes

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

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

I try to catch at many a tuneLike petals of light fallen from the moon,Broken and bright on a dark lagoon,But they float away - for who can holdYouth, or perfume or the moon's gold?

A man, when he burns, leaves only a handful of ashes. No woman can hold him. The wind must blow him away.

Better a life like a falling star, brief bright across the dark, than the long, long waiting of the immortals, loveless and cheerlessly wise.

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

Our sense that things are transient, that everything is passing and then if you want to save something from the endless flux of experience and the world's movement, you have to set down a stake and try and make something that will last.

A real flame of love is a subtle thing. It burns as a will-o'-the-wisp, dancing onward to fairy lands of delight. It roars as a furnace. Too often jealousy is the quality upon which it feeds.

The flowers of life are but illusions. How many fade away and leave no trace.

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.

Time wastes too fast : every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen ; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more -- every thing presses on -- whilst thou are twisting that lock, -- see! it grows grey ; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make!

Dance is like life. It exists as you are flitting through it, and when it's over, it's done.

We are like butterflies who flutter for a day and think it is forever.

The desert weed lives on, but the flower of spring blooms and wilts.

The shimmering night does not stay for mortals, not misfortunes, nor wealth, but in a moment it is gone, and to the turn of another comes joy and loss.

For poems are like rainbows; they escape you quickly.

He came like the wind, like the wind touched everything, and like the wind was gone. -from The Dragon Reborn. By Loial, son of Arent son of Halan, the Fourth Age.

I think, that if I touched the earth, It would crumble; It is so sad and beautiful, So tremulously like a dream.

We are dust and to dust return. In the end we're neither air, nor fire, nor water, just dirt, neither more nor less, just dirt, and maybe some yellow flowers.

And any small moments of intense, flaring beauty such as this morning's will be utterly forgotten, dissolved by time like a super-8 film left out in the rain, without sound, and quickly replaced by thousands of silently growing trees.

I'd be a butterfly; living a rover, Dying when fair things are fading away.

Acting is like painting pictures on bathroom tissues. Ten minutes later you throw them away and they are gone.

Nothing mortal is enduring, and there is nothing sweet which does not presently end in bitterness.

Myriads of daisies have shone forth in flower Near the lark's nest, and in their natural hour Have passed away; less happy than the one That by the unwilling ploughshare died to prove The tender charm of poetry and love.