Quotes About Legacy

brother had done. He pushes the boots to one side and

Someday you will die somehow and something's gonna steal your carbon.

The gun of the father is always the undoing of the son.

Young men pray for different things, of course, but some young men pray to honor the goodness of the men who raised them

like Pakistan, America is, after all, a former English colony...

You feel a love you know you will never be able to adequately explain or express to him, a love that flows one way, down the generations, not in reverse, and is understood and reciprocated only when time has made of a younger generation an older one.

Writers and readers seek a solution to the problem that time passes, that those who have gone are gone and those who will go, which is to say every one of us, will go. For there was a moment when anything was possible. And there will be a moment when nothing is possible. But in between we can create.

Young men pray for different things, of course, but some young men pray to honour the goodness of the men who raised them, and Saeed was very much a young man of this mould.

The old woman had become a rich woman on paper, the house now worth a fortune, and her children were always pestering her to sell it, saying she didn?t need all that space. But she told them to be patient, it would be theirs when she died, which wouldn?t be long now, and she said this kindly, to sharpen the bite of it, and to remind them how much they were motivated by money

The old woman had become a rich woman on paper, the house now worth a fortune, and her children were always pestering her to sell it, saying she didn't need all that space. But she told them to be patient, it would be theirs when she died, which wouldn?t be long now, and she said this kindly, to sharpen the bite of it, and to remind them how much they were motivated by money

How odd it would be to call Homer's Iliad or Rumi's Masnavi "the Great Eastern Mediterranean Poem.

Anders's pale father was the only pale person present, the only pale person left in the entire town, for there were by that point no others, and then his casket was closed and his burial was occurring and he was committed to the soil, the last white man, and after that, after him, there were none.

Here, in the heady bouquet of nature's pantry, your father sniffs mortality.

And even if you hate her, can't stand her, even if she's ruining your life, there's something about her, some romance, some power. She's absolutely herself. No matter how hard you try, you'll never get to her. And when she dies, the world will be flat, too simple, reasonable, fair.

He thought about Lina saying she was like their mom. She was scared that it would happen to her. There was something tentative about his sister; he wasn't like that. His mother must have somehow given him a confidence that she didn't have herself. Still, Lina was an artist. That took courage. He'd made a bargain with life. He'd spend his time gaining the ease they'd once needed. His kids could be artists. He hoped they would be.

imagining her name in a record book. All those demure round letters in the first name, followed by the stalky surprise of the surname. Ona Vitkus.

She died that evening and left me, in Louise fashion, sitting in ten kinds of dark.

Years of alcohol can do that to a person, make him dead but not departed, make him indelible to those who have had the misfortune of sharing his name.

There is no forgiveness in ancestor worship, only retribution and eternal debt.

The continuous work of our life is to build death.

YaÅŸamak için topra??m?z olmayabilir ama ölmek için toprak bulunur nas?l olsa

At that time, a friend shall lose his friend's hammer, and the young shall not know where lieth the things possessed by their fathers that their fathers put there only just the night before ...

Do you not want to rule the world, Nicator Seleucus? Do you not want your name whispered from Athens to the banks of the Indus? Hear the bards singing your fame for posterity and the cities minting your coins? The armies carrying your banners and the warriors piercing the clouds with your name? Do you not want all of that, Seleucus?

Death ends a life, not a relationship. All the love you created is still there. All the memories are still there. You live on- in the hearts of everyone you have touched and nurtured while you were here.