Quotes About Legacy

The dead must be remembered, but the living are the monument.

People die in this war, but the ideas cannot be erased.

I think sometimes that I became a historian because I didn't have a history, but also because I was interested in telling the truth in a family in which truth was an elusive entity.

I always knew that my middle name was an anglicized version of a great-grandmother's name, but I dropped it in my teens, not liking its sound and feeling that a middle name was unnecessary, given how few people have my last name. Only now have I realized which great-grandmother that name belonged to, only writing this story do I know the name of that unknown woman and that it is also mine, or is now the blank space between my names.

I have a friend whose family tree has been traced back a thousand years, but no women exist on it. She just discovered that she herself did not exist, but her brothers did.

Marble lasts, but soil feeds.

sparklers out in front of her. Staring at them, she thought: These are all I have. I do not have the wide, bright beacon of some solid old lighthouse, guiding ships safely home, past the jagged rocks. I only have these little glimmers that flicker and then go out. Let me see my daughter like my mother could never see me. Let her see me, too.

hope they remember that when they get older. When they count up the things I did and didn't do. I never gave the drinking a second

I hate the corpses of empires, they stink as nothing else. They stink so badly that I cannot believe that even in life they were healthy.

None of those climbs, including my own, match what Mallory and Irvine did in June 1924. Mallory who gave the mountain a spirit that cannot be captured with radio or telephone equipment, nor seen with telephoto lenses or satellite pictures. Daring to attempt the impossible, risking everything for a dream, and refusing to capitulate in the face of adversity, Mallory, to me, personifies heroism.

Owning things is boring - obligations and responsibilities. It interest me less than creating things. Right now, I'd be prepared to give everything I own to my children and start again from scratch.

A kind of relationship had developed between the mountain and me, which had to grow and endure in order to become timeless, even after my death.

I could tell that he had heard about me and that I would soon be a figure in the stories he would tell his grandchildren. A strange figure: The man who kept asking everyone about the yeti, and who himself looked like one. I did not want to know that tale, but I knew that it meant that the tale of the yeti - in some form - would exist forever. Storytellers die; their stories live on.

Let the months and years come, they can take nothing from me, they can take nothing more.

The man of genius may dwell unknown, but one always may recognize the path he has followed into the forest. It was a giant who passed that way. The branches are broken at a height that other men cannot reach.

They're us!They've repopulated the world, and now they've achieved the same state of idiocy they were in before, ready to blow themselves up all over again. Great, isn't it? That's the human race!

She thinks how sad it is that we remember the killers and not their victims. What if the world forgot Hitler and remembered all the names of his victims? What is we immortalized the victims?

Every human being, he believed, must do one of three basic things during his lifetime: leave something living, create something lovely, or make something better.

Those who did know Jesus - those who followed him into Jerusalem as its king and helped him cleanse the Temple in God's name, who were there when he was arrested and who watched him die a lonely death - played a surprisingly small role in defining the movement Jesus left behing.

manism (ancestor cults)—but it was not as concerned

Sie wissen, dass sich dort draußen kein Mensch für Literatur interessiert und sie die letzten Hüter einer glorreichen, in die Krise geratenen Tradition sind.

Así somos él y yo, tal vez le sirva, le digo a Renzi, tipos sin arraigo, gente anacrónica, los últimos sobrevivientes de una estirpe en disolución.

cta est fbula: plaudite! (Suetonius Aug. 99.1: plaud, plaudere, plaus, plausum, to strike with a flat surface, clap; applaud; "plaudit," "explode." Augustus' last words, according to his biographer.)

Mribus antqus rs stat Rmna virsque. (Ennius Ann. 467.)