Terry Pratchett Quotes

Our lives feel like these epochs, but really, we are dust in the wind.

Life doesn't last; art doesn't last. It doesn't matter.

I conceive of nothing, in religion, science or philosophy, that is more than the proper thing to wear, for a while.

To make the best use of your life, you must never forget two truths: First, compared with eternity, life is extremely brief. Second, earth is only a temporary residence. You won't be here long, so don't get too attached.

Nothing is forever...nothing lasts.

Everything has an end, if only you live long enough to see it.

I'm saying with very few exceptions nothing lasts forever, and among those exceptions, no work or thought of man is numbered.

I'd have to be really quick to describe clouds - a split second's enough for them to start being something else.

I've never stuck around long enough to know if anyone would miss me. That's rock 'n' roll, though. Here today, gone tomorrow.

This can't last. This misery can't last. I must remember that and try to control myself. Nothing lasts really. Neither happiness nor despair. Not even life lasts very long.

Any parting could be forever, and we don't know.

And these things that keep alive on departure know that you praise them; transient, they look to us, the most transient, to be their rescue. They want us to change them completely, in our invisible hearts, into -- O endlessly -- us! Whoever, finally, we may be.

That nothing is static or fixed, that all is fleeting and impermanent, is the first mark of existence. It is the ordinary state of affairs. Everything is in process. Everything - every tree, every blade of grass, all the animals, insects, human beings, buildings, the animate and the inanimate - is always changing, moment to moment.

Be hole, be dust, be dream, be wind/Be night, be dark, be wish, be mind,/Now slip, now slide, now move unseen,/Above, beneath, betwixt, between.

Jump to the day we'll all be dead and none of this will matter. Jump to the day another house will stand here and the people living there won't know we ever happened.

In life, and in sports, we all know that nothing lasts forever.

Our worlds are so momentary. We are along all our lives and then go off that way as well.

Life is a fragment, a moment between two eternities.

The things that we have and that we think are so solid - they're like smoke, and time is like the sky that the smoke disappears into, nothing is left but the sky, and the sky keeps on being just the same forever.

This body is not a home, but an inn; and that only for a short time.

You see, I have only such a fugitive awareness of things around me that I always feel they were once real and are now fleeting away.

Everything that falls upon the eye is apparition, a sheet dropped over the world's true workings. The nerves and the brain are tricked, and one is left with dreams that these specters loose their hands from ours and walk away, the curve of the back and the swing of the coat so familiar as to imply that they should be permanent fixtures of the world, when in fact nothing is more perishable.

And you know, these things don't last forever.' I know, Mandy. Nothing does.' That's the spirit.

Who hail thee, Man! the pilgrim of the day, spouse of the worm, and brother of the clay.