Quotes About Legacy

Patroclus" It was the name my father had given me, hopefully but injudiciously, at my birth, and it tasted of bitterness on my tonge. "Honor of the father," it meant. I waited for him to make a joke out of it, some witty jape about my disgrace. He did not. perhaps, I thought, he is too stupid to.

Name one hero who was happy - You can't." "I can't." "I know. They never let you become famous and happy - I'll tell you a secret." "Tell me." "I'm going to be the first.

Stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories.

All the bright people, stopped in the midst of life, looking with forced smile into the lenses, then to be filed away, their colors fading as the years pass, caught there in slide trays, stack loads, view cubes, until one day the camera person dies and the grandchild says, "Mom, I don't know any of these people. Or where these were taken even. There are jillions of them here in this big box and more in the closet. What will I do with them anyway?" "Throw them out, dear.

God and your folks give you the face you're born with, but you earn the one you die with.

Death is an unending rerun until the last person with any memory of you is also dead.

How paltry are the traces left behind by a life, even one concentrated around those supposed things of permanence called words. We spend our time upon the earth and then disappear, and only one one-thousandth of what we were lasts. We send all those bottles out into the ocean and so few wash up on shore.

Sempre teremos de morrer

Souvent Me Souvient (Remember Me Often)-The Darwin Conspiracy

He was one of the grand old men until the churches and the congregations got wind that he was an infidel and believed in Darwin. Luther Burbank had never a thought of evil, selecting improved hybrids for America those sunny years in Santa Rosa. But he brushed down a wasp's nest that time; he wouldn't give up Darwin and Natural Selection and they stung him and he died puzzled.

Everything published goes down the same chute out of the overbright glare of publicity into oblivion.

Of no distemper, of no blast he died, But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long — Even wondered at, because he dropped no sooner. Fate seemed to wind him up for fourscore years, Yet freshly ran he on ten winters more; Till like a clock worn out with eating time, The wheels of weary life at last stood still.

Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

May the student in you become the teacher for another

Wherever okra points its green tip, Africa has been: 'nuff said.

Every boy, in his journey to become a man, takes an arrow in the center of his heart, in the place of his strength. Because the wound is rarely discussed and even more rarely healed, every man carries a wound. And the wound is nearly always given by his father.

All men die; few men ever really live.

In order to understand how a man receives a wound, you must understand the central truth of a boy's journey to manhood: Masculinity is bestowed. A boy learns who he is and what he's got from a man, or the company of men. He cannot learn it any other place. He cannot learn it from other boys, and he cannot learn it from the world of women.

Frodo could not be a hero unless he was born into a story with many chapters already played out before his own. His moment derives its weight and urgency from the moments that have come before.

We have the power to make this the best generation of mankind in the history of the world or make it the last.

All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days . . .nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.

A nation reveals itself not only by the men it produces but also by the men it honors, the men it remembers.

The great French Marshall Lyautey once asked his gardener to plant a tree. The gardner objected that the tree was slow growing and wouldn't reach maturity for 100 years. The Marshall replied, In that case, there is no time to lose; plant it this afternoon!

A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on.