Quotes About Legacy

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth, Let's choose executors and talk of wills

William Shakespeare

The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children.

Nothing in his life became him like the leaving it.

Golden lads and girls all must as chimney sweepers come to dust.

How many ages hence Shall this our lofty scene be acted over, In states unborn and accents yet unknown!

the time of life is short; To spend that shortness basely were too long.

Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones

Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away. Oh, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall t' expel the winter's flaw!

Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death's.

More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past

in that small [time] most greatly lived this star of England: Fortune made his sword, By which the world's best garden he achiev'd And left it to his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd King of France and England did this King succeed; Whose state so many of had the managing, That they lost France and made his England bleed.

CAPULET: ...Well, we were born to die.

William Shakespeare

Lay these Bones in an unworthy Urn, Tombless, with no Remembrance over them.

William Shakespeare

Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

He that cuts off twenty years of life Cuts off so many years of fearing death.

Of France and England, did this king succeed; Whose state so many had the managing. That they lost France and made his England bleed.

What is thy body but a swallowing grave, Seeming to bury that posterity Which, by the rights of time, thou needs must have If thou destroy them not in dark obscurity? If so, the world will hold thee in disdain, Sith in thy pride so fair a hope is slain.

There's nothing serious in mortality. All is but toys. Renown and grace is dead. The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.