Quotes About Legacy

Metal rusts, music lasts forever.

constantly before his eyes now was a river flowing from him; and it was as if he himself and his house and the wealth he had accumulated over many decades were flowing away like the river, while he was too old and too weak to oppose the powerful current.

Als Schubert so alt war wie ich, da war er schon drei Jahre tot.

I like to believe that I've got a lot of guardian warriors sittin' on my shoulder including my dad.

Barry remembered his dad saying that the casualties of war couldn't be counted only among the dead and the wounded.

I refuse to believe that Hendrix had the last possessed hand, that Joplin had the last drunken throat, that Morrison had the last enlightened mind.

Both of them were ahead of their time, but they didn't live long enough to see the time they were ahead of.

Much has been said about Robert, and more will be added. Young men will adopt his gait. Young girls will wear white dresses and mourn his curls. He will be condemned and adored. His excesses damned or romanticized. In the end, truth will be found in his work, the corporeal body of the artist. It will not fall away. Man cannot judge it. For art sings of God, and ultimately belongs to him.

We never had any children," he said ruefully. "Our work was our children.

We would all like to believe that we came from nowhere but ourselves, every gesture is our own. But then we find we belong to the history and fate of a long line of beings that also may have wished to be free.

I knew if I lived long enough I would be poet laureate of something.

Why is it that we lose the things we love, and things cavalier cling to us and will be the measure of our worth after we're gone?

Grief starts to become indulgent, and it doesn't serve anyone, and it's painful. But if you transform it into remembrance, then you're magnifying the person you lost and also giving something of that person to other people, so they can experience something of that person.

And what was the ultimate goal? To have one's work caged in art's great zoos—the Modern, the Met, the Louvre?

I tried to write something about Jesse but couldn't, as her face echoed her father's and the proud palace where the ghosts of our old life dwell.

It was exciting just to stand in front of the hallowed ground of Birdland that had been blessed by John Coltrane, or the Five Spot on St. Mark's Place where Billie Holiday used to sing, where Eric Dolphy and Ornette Coleman opened the field of jazz like human can openers.

The old world and the emerging one served up in the brick and mortar of the artisan and the architects.

You see, there's a saying carved in Old English on a wooden plank on one of the oldest structures built in America. This is Tangier Island. As it goes, so do we. —Have you actually seen it? I asked. —You don't see things like that. You feel them, as in all important things; they arrive, they come into your dreams. For instance, he added slyly, you're dreaming now.

My mother was real and her son was real. When he died she buried him. Now she is dead. Mother Courage and her children, my mother and her son. They are all stories now.

Herkes ölür," demi?ti yava? yava? güçlerini kaybeden ellerine bakarak. "Fakat ben bunun böyle olaca??n? önceden tahmin edememi?tim i?te. Ama sorun de?il. Hayat?m? istedi?im gibi ya?ad?m.

Remember we are mortal but poetry is not.

Living is worthwhile if one can contribute in some small way to this endless chain of progress.

You always leave something behind when you start something new.

Just being alive - even if you're only on the planet for a few years - is struggle enough. You've earned the right to be remembered.