Quotes About Legacy

La sabiduría interior de nuestro más sagrado yo nos lega la sabiduría de la pérdida y el fracaso para que nuestra conciencia se fortalezca.

I advise everybody not to save: spend your money. Most people save all their lives and leave it to somebody else. Money is to be enjoyed.

Once in the United States, buttressed by the nation's legacy from the days of slavery, many of these questionably white groups became whiter with time. In effect, the black-white dynamic in the United States enabled former European "races" to become white. Some did so by drawing a sharp distinction between themselves and African Americans.24

I'll give that boy the farm Heinrich couldn't take. Write me his name and address on a coaster. All the most important messages are sent on beer mats...

have you read any book from "heinrich boll"?he is my faverit writer . what do u think about his books?

God will forgive me. It's his job." Heine said this on his deathbed (1856). Hilarious. He must have thought that up years before and counted the seconds to use it.

Thirty-seven years later I found out for whom he had been searching: Charlotte Lobjoie, a woman who had born him a son, Jean Marie, in March 1918.40

If we could know as intimately as we know our more immediate parents the long line of ancestors through whom the family spirit has passed on its way to us, we should probably become fatalists in face of the apparently overwhelming evidence that there is nothing in us that has not come to us from, or at least through, the Family. Family portrait galleries are a striking confirmation of the persistence of characteristics which ultimately govern the fortunes of successive generations.

Every family had its own peculiar cult, to which no stranger was ever admitted, and which alone could appease and satisfy the gods of that family. The cult was handed down from father to son, from generation to generation, and could not be lost without condemning the whole series of ancestors to eternal misery.

To be lost from people's thoughts is like a second death.

We are living through such times that those yet born will look back in wonder

You live in the past,' Kate said. 'You live in your grandfather's time.' But she was wrong. The past was not something we could live in, because it had nothing to do with life. It was something we lugged about, as heavy as a sack of rotting apples.

Some things, if you don't do them, they follow you all your life, whispering in your ear," says Granny Carne. She faces me sternly as if she's judging me. "You'll find a dozen good reasons why you pulled back from the Call, and you'll even fool yourself that you had no other choice. But in your bed at night you'll curse yourself for a coward.

Only a very few people leave traces in history, or even bequeath family documents to their descendants. Most have no money to memorialise themselves, and lack even a gravestone to mark their existence. Women's lives, in particular, remain largely unrecorded. But even so, did they not shape the future?

History tumbled from every street corner and stuck to her heels as she walked down the sidewalk.

This is all there is! So that you children will know and live right!

the past that has not passed away

People who refuse to rest honorably on their laurels when they reach retirement age seem very admirable to me.

Legends die hard. They survive as truth rarely does.

There's a little vanity chair that Charlie gave me the first Christmas we knew each other. I'll not be parting with that, nor our bed-the four-poster-I'll be needing that to die in.

Not the senses I have but what I do with them is my kingdom.

The movement has kept itself from full development by denying, ignoring, and rejecting parts of itself, including its spiritual legacy.

We are very bad at scale. The things that live in the soil are too small to care about; climate change too large to imagine. We are bad at time, too. We cannot remember what lived here before we did; we cannot love what is not. Nor can we imagine what will be different when we are dead. We live out our three score and ten, and tie our knots and lines only to ourselves. We take solace in pictures, and we wipe the hills of history.

We are bad at time, too. We cannot remember what lived here before we did; we cannot love what is not. Nor can we imagine what will be different when we are dead.