In a man’s life, his time is but a moment, his being a mere flux, his senses a dim glimpse,
his body food for the worms, and his soul a restless eddy …
the things of the body pass like a flowing stream;
life is a brief sojourn, and one’s mark in this world is soon forgotten.
— Marcus Aurelius
Thus shall ye think of all this fleeting world:
a star at dawn,
a bubble in a stream;
a flash of lightning in a summer cloud,
a flickering lamp,
and a dream.
— The Diamond Sutra – Section 32 – The Delusion of Appearances
Like a dream,
Whatever I enjoy
Will become a memory;
The past is not revisited.
— Shantideva – Verse 36 / Chapter 2 of the Bodhicharyavatara
I know that the day will come
when my sight of this earth shall be lost,
and life will take its leave in silence,
drawing the last curtain over my eyes.
Yet stars will watch at night,
and morning rise as before,
and hours heave like sea waves casting up pleasures and pains.
When I think of this end of my moments,
the barrier of the moments breaks
and I see by the light of death
thy world with its careless treasures.
Rare is its lowliest seat,
rare is its meanest of lives.
Things that I longed for in vain
and things that I got
—let them pass.
Let me but truly possess
the things that I ever spurned
— Rabindranath Tagore – Gitanjali – Poem N° 92