Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Decay. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Decay Quotes And Sayings by 92 Authors including Adelaide Anne Procter,Laozi,Edwin Hubbel Chapin,John Burroughs,Erwin Schrodinger for you to enjoy and share.
See how time makes all grief decay.
Things exalted then decay. This is going against the Way. What goes against the Way meets an early end.
Death, is not an end, but a transition crisis. All the forms of decay are but masks of regeneration
the secret alembics of vitality.
Without death and decay, how could life go on?
LIVING MATTER EVADES THE DECAY TO EQUILIBRIUM
We are often unaware of the gradual decline and the erosion in our lives but not unaware of the gnawing feeling it brings.
It is the fate of all things to ripen, and then to decay.
I am already sensible of decay in the power of walking, and find my memory not so faithful as it used to be. This may be partly owing to the incessant current of new matter flowing constantly through it; but I ascribe to years their share in it also.
The colors of living things begin to fade with the last breath, and the soft, springy skin and supple muscle rot within weeks. But the bones sometimes remain, faithful echoes of the shape, to bear some last faint witness to the glory of what was.
I think the truly natural things are dreams, which nature cannot touch with decay
Anything that is alive is in a continual state of change and movement. The moment that you rest, thinking that you have attained the level you desire, a part of your mind enters decay
Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk.
When learning stops, decay sets in.
My mouth is full of decayed teeth and my soul of decayed ambitions.
Decay is quiet but ghastly, explosion is dramatic and dreadful. There's not much to choose between the two of them in reality, and most of our lives have sufficient of both.
Wealth accumulates, and men decay.
There is something in the decay of nature that awakens thought, even in the most trifling mind.
Nothing ever quite dies, it just comes back in a different form.
Nature's laws must be obeyed, and the period of decline begins, and goes on with accelerated rapidity.
Sometimes death is a proof of life. Sometimes decay points out a certain verve. We were young and we were hungry. We were strong and and growing stronger, so healthy we were bursting.
Listen, days decay, like food, like fish,
like dead bodies. This night will decay, too and you will forget. Listen, we will forget.
The body can decay right in front of you, go from a tool that expresses your will to an anchor dragging you down to hell.
All things change, and you yourself are constantly wasting away. So also is the universe.
We are all rotting, making our way from womb to tomb, to the rhythm of the great clock counting downward to the grave.
At the touch of mankind, things wear away with heartbreaking slowness.
I am quite confident that the most important part of a human being is not his physical body but his nonphysical essence, which some people call soul and others, personality ... The nonphysical part cannot die and cannot decay because it's not physical.
Life is rather a short walk through eternity. Be they seeds, pups or infants, on the trek all pick up weight, sensitivity and awareness. Then, much before the end of the run, they deteriorate, head, legs and lungs. The tragicomedy of existence: the long walk of slow decay.
We notice that the mind grows with the body, and with it decays.
Life is one long decay, no? There's a lot of beauty in it. Like the patina in an old city.
Where there is no strife there is decay: 'The mixture which is not shaken decomposes.'
We will all, someday, experience death, and become obsolete as a dead leaf falling from a tree, crushed by passersby to ashes underlying the earth.
However grand and high, would all decay.
Whenever a people or an institution forget its hard beginnings, it is beginning to decay.
All natural goods perish. Riches take wings; fame is a breath; love is a cheat; youth and health and pleasure vanish.
The day you stop learning is the day you begin decaying.
There was an air of decay that enveloped the property as if it had been kissed by dead lips glossed with mildew.
He that plots to be the only figure among ciphers [zeros], is the decay of the whole age.
Great effort is required to arrest decay and restore vigor. One must exercise proper deliberation, plan carefully before making a move, and be alert in guarding against relapse following a renaissance.
The most fatal disease of friendship is gradual decay.
The loneliness within him was like slow decay, and with time it would rot its way into his soul.
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget...
In the oddity or maybe the miracle of life, the roots of something new frequently lie in the decaying husks of something old.
Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens.
All other things to their destruction draw, Only our love hath no decay ...
The world's decay where the wind's hands have passed,
And my head, worn out with love, at rest
In my hands, and my hands full of dust.
Here, rancid air hangs heavily in a void, its texture thick, liquid, clinging, in a night full of the hot smells of decay.
All things fade into the storied past, and in a little while are shrouded in oblivion.
What goes too long unchanged destroys itself.
Setting is preliminary to brighter rising; decay is a process of advancement; death is the condition of higher and more fruitful life.
I am fading away. Slowly but surely. Like the sailor who watches his home shore gradually disappear, I watch my past recede. My old life still burns within me, but more and more of it is reduced to the ashes of memory.
Time erodes us all.
Even gods decay. Like, in 1890 somebody sold off thousands of mummified Ancient Egyptian sacred cats - _for fertilizer_. Get the point? Constancy isn't.
How quickly the dead faded into each other,
Absorption in ease and entertainment is a sure sign of dissipation and decline.
Whenever anything changes and quits its proper limits, this change is at once the death of that which was before.
As a youth, I sought out decadence; as an elder, I try to avoid decay.
As you live, so you die
Each day death corrodes what we call living, and life ceaselessly swallows our desire for the void.
When things flourish they decline.
For we die every day; oblivion thrives 520 Not on dry thighbones but on blood-ripe lives, And our best yesterdays are now foul piles Of crumpled names, phone numbers and foxed files.
After someone's death, how strange to see the value drain away from his or her possessions; useful objects such as clothes, or dish towels, or personal papers become little more than trash.
All people start to
come apart finally
and there it is:
just empty ashtrays in a room
or wisps of hair on a comb
in the dissolving moonlight.
Loss is an inevitable part of change.
Material things are so vulnerable to the humiliations of decay. There are some I dearly wish might be spared.
We think literature is immortal, but even that decays and ultimately turns to dust.
I grow and I shrink. I run and I crawl.
Follow my voice, though I have none at all.
I never do leave here, but I travel around
I float through the sky and I creep through the ground.
I keep my cache in a vault although I have no wealth,
Seek my decay to safeguard your health.
Loss is a knife, constantly cutting, but over time the blade dulls, and the cuts aren't as sharp. It's always there in the drawer, but you realize it doesn't cut as deeply anymore.
We lose our hair, our teeth! Our bloom, our ideals.
Gone is what happens when people stop asking, when all research has ceased, when no one contributes to the archives of a life or its extinction.
All things fade and quickly turn to myth.
Decline is also a form of voluptuousness, just like growth. Autumn is just as sensual as springtime. There is as much greatness in dying as in procreation.
We are all of us daily decaying, after all; the speed is our only variant.
The gradual decline of a society is often a self-induced process of trying to meet ever-expanding appetites, rather than a physical inability to produce past levels of food and fuel, or to maintain adequate defense.
Life is a process of one goneness after another.
Nothing is ever lost nor can be lost; the body aged, sluggish,cold ... the embers left from earlier fires shall dully flame again
Aging is not just decay, you know. It's growth. It's more than the negative that you're going to die, it's also the positive, that you understand going to die, and you live a better life because of it.
You fade slowly till no one sees you disappear.
All satire is blind to the forces liberated by decay. Which is why total decay has absorbed the forces of satire.
What is Death, so it be but glorious? 'Tis a sunset; And mortals may be happy to resemble The Gods but in decay.
The Beautiful chariots of kings wear out, This body too undergoes decay. But the Dhamma of the good does not decay: So the good proclaim along with the good.
Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not forget it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poison behind it, like the death angel. It is what was this fall, and what I never want to be again. The pouting disconsolate mouth, the flat, bored, numb, expressionless eyes: symptoms of the foul decay within.
Old age transfigures or fossilizes.
E'en Beauty mourns in her decaying bower,
That Time upon her angel brow should set
His crooked autograph, and mar the jet
Of glossy locks. Lo! how her chaplet green,
The hoar frost and the canker worm destroy.
Decay's dull film obscures those matchless eyes.
Things fall apart, it's scientific.
Where wealth accumulates, men decay.
Our spirits grow gray before our hairs.
How we gentle our losses into paler ghosts.
Time drops in decay Like a candle burnt out. And the mountains and woods Have their day, have their day; But, kindly old rout Of the fire-born moods, You pass not away.
On every thing are traced decay and change. Look! how the shifting seasons slip away.
You can smell it, too. Death. Dying. Decay. The sky is falling, the sky is dying, the sky is dead.
Royalty is the gold filling in a mouthful of decay
Nature is full of teeth
that come in one by one, then
Stone crumbles. Wood rots. People, well they die. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on.
It is fading away.
When you cease to make a contribution, you begin to die.
Of all the kinds of decay in this world, decadent purity is the most malignant.
What turns to stone is inside you.
The more a thing tends to be permanent, the more it tends to be lifeless.
There are things that drift away like our endless, numbered days
Even this shall pass away