Quotes About Legacy

The latter. She had a good run," Sook said, doing a little shrug. It was his usual response to death at Mapleshade, and it was a safe bet that he felt that way about himself. Like most twice-widowed, Korea-vet, nature-loving, gun-enthusiast, bilingual, weed-connoisseur great grandfathers of five, he'd lived a full life.

I'm trying to have my own thing, and I don't know if it's even possible. I didn't realize so many people actually think I'm trying to be like my dad. I read comments like 'She's no Elvis.' I'm not trying to be. I never set out to be.

M's plan would put Blake right up there in the history books with Alexander, with Charlemagne, with Napoleon. One of the most powerful men ever to have lived. Viceroy of the Americas.

Always strive to be a better parent to your children than your parents were to you. —DALEEN BATEMAN BARLOW

My mother used to say that to me and my brother, Gio, and even in the years since she passed, the words echo in my mind, as I know they must in my brother's. After all, we heard those words on nearly a daily basis from the moment our father disappeared until the moment our mother died seven years later.

I approach the double glass doors of the world-renowned Riptide Auction House. Nerves flutter in my belly with the idea that I'm about to do everything my mother warned me never to do—I'm about to place myself in the middle of the world that destroyed our family. But I'm also trying to save the only family I have left.

I'm Aria Alard," I say, speaking my mother's maiden name

No one here has to know who I really am. Ever. They can never know. We disappeared with my father, our historic bloodline ended forever.

My brother is looking for a violin. He has to believe this one is special, perhaps one of the three our father owned, one of which our mother claimed hid a secret—the "recipe," as Sofia had said, writing in obvious code, to make the renowned Stradivarius violin worth tens of millions of dollars. But I don't care about the recipe. I care about finding my brother.

Lisa Renee Jones

Generosity of the dead. This states The big problem of poetry. Who could Speak for the buildings, for the future of the dead The dead who are implicated in all I can say? On this very beautiful surface Where I want to live

From dust we came, and to dust we shall return," Cornelius said.

We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.' The first death is beyond our control, but the second one we can strive to prevent.

Your children are the greatest gift God will give to you and their souls the heaviest responsibility He will place in your hands. When you are old, nothing else you've done will have mattered…

We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.

Do we carry the guilt from the sins of past generations? If so, can we bear the weight of that burden?

It's strange how you can feel guilty for a family history you didn't have anything to do with, isn't it?

Your children are the greatest gift God will give to you, and their souls the heaviest responsibility He will place in your hands. Take time with them, teach them to have faith in God. Be a person in whom they can have faith. When you are old, nothing else you've done will have mattered as much.

they've all come to the same end. They are dust beneath the soil. All that is left behind lies in the people who remain. And the stories.

I realize that those who have loved us are never really gone. They live on in all the ones we love and all the ways we love. They are the reason we know how to love at all.

It's funny how family histories seem to differ, depending on whom you ask.

At the very least, we must tell our stories, mustn't we? Speak the names? You know, there is an old proverb that says, 'We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.' The first death is beyond our

his name possibly handed down through generations like an heirloom—a coin or a favorite piece of jewelry—from long-dead ancestors who possessed no tokens to pass along, save for their names and their stories.

Do we carry the guilt from the sins of past generations? If so, can we bear the weight of that burden? Trent