Quotes About Legacy

The stories they tell will be different from the stories I heard in the camp, because the camp was for those left behind, the women and children, the old men, the blind, the crippled, the idiots, people who have nothing to tell but stories of how they have endured. Whereas these young men have had adventures, victories and defeats and escapes. They will have stories to tell long after the war is over, stories for a lifetime, stories for their grandchildren to listen to open-mouthed.

So what is it, he thought, that binds me to this spot of earth as if to a home I cannot leave? We must all leave home, after all, we must all leave our mothers. Or am I such a child, such a child from such a line of children, that none of us can leave, but have to come back to die here with our heads upon our mothers' laps, I upon hers, she upon her mother's, and so back and back, generation upon generation?

El niño ha sido entregado a su madre. Como uno de esos grises insectos macho cuya única función es transmitir su semilla a la hembra, podría marchitarse y morir. No le queda nada en lo que basar su vida.

Empire dooms itself to live in history and plot against history. One thought alone preoccupies the submerged mind of Empire: how not to end, how not to die, how to prolong its era. By day it pursues its enemies. It is cunning and ruthless, it sends its bloodhounds everywhere. By night it feeds on images of disaster: the sack of cities, the rape of populations, pyramids of bones, acers of desolation.

hasta qué punto es real nuestra posesión? Las flores se convierten en polvo, Hendrik desengancha y se va, la tierra nada sabe de cercas, las piedras seguirán en su sitio cuando yo no sea más que polvo, la propia comida que devoro solamente pasa a través de mí.

Despite years of prospecting, my father hated a pick and shovel.

When they got to thew bottom of the stairwell, they stopped dead. Blay's father was facing off with a lesser, a Civil War sword in one hand, a dagger in the other. Behind his Joe Friday glasses, his eyes were lit like torches, and they flicked over for a split second. Stay out of this. This one's mine. The shit was done faster than you can say, Ninja Dad . Blay's father went Ginsu on the slayer, carving the thing up like a turkey, then stabbing it back to the Omega.

Last fight I had with the bitch ended way too soon. Eddie rolled his eyes and glanced at Jim. It was in the Middle Ages and he still hasn't gotten over it.

As he shut the door, he was painfully aware that they were each talking about their young--only Wrath's had four paws and a tail. Least he didn't have to worry about George succeeding him or being blind.

Children were the only immortality mortals got—and even then, two generations later, three at the most, no one knew you in person anymore.

All the deeds done in a moment that had repercussions which lasted a lifetime.

V laughed deep in his throat. "Yeah, you can fight with me in the field when you're grown. And soon as you're big enough to hold a dagger … I'll make one for you. Forge it myself. You're gonna be just like your dad, one helluva a fighter. Just like him …

The past is safe because it is indelible.

The trouble was, he realized with dread, when your heart finally stopped beating in your chest, everything that you wished you'd said but hadn't, all the missing pieces of yourself that you had yet to give, all the failures you had stuffed under the rug in the guise of life being so very busy . . . that stopped, too. The mid-stride step, never to be completed, was the worst regret anyone could have.

What do you most want to be remembered for?" she whispered. His lids lifted and his eyes shifted to her own. "My love for you." He blinked slowly. "I wish to be best remembered for how much I loved you. Of all the places I've gone and people I've known and things I've done…my love for you is the purest representation of who I am. It's the best of me, of who I am, of my soul. My love for you…is everything of me.

Strength would be his offering to them. Power his eulogy. Vengeance the prayer at their graves.

That was my life, Qhuinn. Those children…were my future, what was going to be left of me when I'm dead and gone. They were going to be…" As his voice cracked, he took a long drag. "They were going to carry my parents' traditions forward. They were milestones and happiness and a wholeness that even you can't give me.

You want to know what death is! I'll tell you what it is—death is the living forgetting you! What you smell like and look like, what your voice sounds like, how you laugh! Even if there is an afterlife, my death is going to be you going on without me until you can't remember what color my eyes are or how long my hair is—

When you are poor, all you have are the people in your life. Who they are and who they are to you? That is the wealth you have in the world. That is the wealth you pass down to the next generation.

Last fight I had with the bitch ended way too soon." Eddie rolled his eyes and glanced at Jim. "It was back in the Middle Ages and he still hasn't gotten over it." "Why so long ago?" "We got put on ice," Eddie said. "We were a little more fallen than the bosses were comfortable with." Adrian

Ser llorada por buena gente era el mejor legado que alguien puede dejar atrás.

The dead were immortal in the souls of those they left behind, and the payment for that permanence was pain.

It's in your father's volume. Xcor is the blooded son of the Black Dagger Brother Hharm. Just as you are." Tohr

THE OLD COUNTRY, 1731 F