Transience (n.) is the very thing we seek liberation from — and it is the very liberator.
Transience (n.) is what keeps the world dancing: without birth, death and endless transformation it would be static, rhythmless, mummified.
Transience (n.) does not make us unimportant: the fabric of life is such that one broken thread may do untold ruin.
Transience (n.) is part and parcel of the world's loveliness, which is why poets are at their best on the passing of things.
Transience (n.) is what makes the world seem dreamlike — more than any theory of knowledge; as one ages and time speeds up, solids turn liquid and people become lights rippling on water.