Quotes About Legacy

Read your own obituary notice; they say you live longer. Gives you second wind. New lease of life.

In woman's womb word is made flesh but in the spirit of the maker all flesh that passes becomes the word that shall not pass away. This is the postcreation.

I care not if I live but a day and a night, so long as my deeds live after me.

It was hard work-a hard life-but now that she was about to leave it she did not find it a wholly undesirable life.

I am quite content to go down to posterity as a scissors and paste man for that seems to me a harsh but not unjust description

Thanks be to God we lived so long and did so much good.

Gone too from the world, Averroes and Moses Maimonides

Usher's Island

When all is said Dumas fils (or is it Dumas père?) is right. After God Shakespeare has created most.

His life would be lonely too until he, too, died, ceased to exist, became a memory - if anyone remembered him.

And thanks be to God, Johnny, said Mr Dedalus, that we lived so long and did so little harm.

YaÅŸlan?p ac?nas? bir ÅŸekilde eriyip tükenmektense bir tutkunun ihtiÅŸam?yla öteki dünyaya göçmek daha iyiydi.

He thought, but not for long, of soldiers and sailors, whose legs had been shot off by cannonballs, ending their days in some pauper ward, and of cardinal Wolsey's words: If I had served my God as I have served my king He would not have abandoned me in my old days.

Sako, perskaitysi savo paties nekrologÄ… - ilgiau gyvensi. Suteikia antrÄ… kvÄ—pavimÄ…. Nauja gyvenimo sutartis.

E' morto per un brutto caso di ventesimo secolo.

My father, your son, was, is, a man who truly cherishes life. Yes, he is, Alice whispered. I hope he got it... from me.

She thanked them for their letters, promised that they would be archived at the Kennedy Library, and said all the usual niceties one might expect a widow in her position to say. Then she caught viewers off guard with an emotional and revealing statement. In the middle of her remarks, she paused and said: "All his bright light gone from the world.

El calendario de la fama Adiós, adiós, mis amadas manos dijo Rachmaninov en su lecho de muerte y Joseph Hofmann, el gran pianista, inventó el limpiaparabrisas de observar su metrónomo Genio que soy, que lo único que puedo hacer es marcar las teclas equivocadas en mi máquina de escribir

But no one could say he hadn't gotten even. He could not count the field women whom he had sexually degraded and demoralized and in whom he had left his seed so their bastard children would be a daily visual reminder of what a plantation white man could do to a plantation black woman whenever he wanted, nor could he count the black men whom he had made fear his blackjack as they would fear Satan himself, making each of them a lifetime enemy of all white people.

Mortality is not kind, and do not let anyone tell you it is. If there is such a thing as wisdom, and I have serious doubts about its presence in my own life, it lies in the acceptance of the human condition and perhaps the knowledge that those who have passed on are still with us, out there in the mist, showing us the way, sometimes uttering a word of caution from the shadows, sometimes visiting us in our sleep, as bright as a candle burning inside a basement that has no windows.

But the participants [in war] never forgot the details of their experience, and like the Wandering Jew, they were condemned to remain their own history books, each containing a story they could not pass on to others and from which no one would learn anything of value.

I guess that seems like an absurd premise until we consider the possibility that the dead are always with us, beckoning from the shade, reminding us that we're actors in the same drama they have already lived and that they can help us with our lives if we will only let them.

Alcoholism is not a disease here but a venerated family heirloom.

People who commit suicide in a dramatic fashion often have an agenda and are involved in a fantasy that leads to their death. They're filled with rage and seek revenge against those who have hurt them. They slash their wrists or jump from buildings or fire bullets into their brain. In their fantasy, they witness the discovery of their body by people they hate. In that way, they leave behind a legacy of guilt and sorrow.