Quotes About Legacy

The dead do not become stars or ghosts. in fact, they are hardly undone. Soon their randomly dispersed parts reappear one by one on foreign hosts- the beloved ear or freckled arm, separate as a milagro or bracelet charm. It is not grotesque, though odd. Even a piece does us some good. "Charms

If some priest or other comes to take my confession and give me sacrament, tell him to clear out, quick, and leave me his curse instead! I´ve done heaps and heaps of things in my life, but I still did not do enough. Men like me ought to live a thousand years.

We're the only ones who care now. The likes of you and me, Ono, when we look back over our lives and see they were flawed, we're the only ones who care now.

Some of you will have fine monuments by which the living may remember the evil done to you. Some of you will have only crude wooden crosses or painted rocks, while yet others of you must remain hidden in the shadows of history.

And one has a right, perhaps, to feel a satisfaction those content to serve mediocre employers will never know – the satisfaction of being able to say with some reason that one's efforts, in however modest a way, comprise a contribution to the course of history.

You built your lives on what we gave you. You wouldn't be who you are today if we'd not protected you. You wouldn't have become absorbed in your lessons, you wouldn't have lost yourselves in your art and your writing. Why should you have done, knowing what lay in store for each of you? You would have told us it was all pointless, and how could we have argued with you?

then before you're old, before you're even middle-aged, you'll start to donate your vital organs. That's what each of you was created to do.

Of course, it is tragic that so many of his generation died as they did, but why must he harbour such bitterness for his elders?

for if we're mortal let us at least shine handsomely in God's eyes while we walk this earth! Like

Where once we fought for land and God, we now fought to avenge fallen comrades, themselves slaughtered in vengeance. Where could it end? Babes growing to men knowing only days of war.

Come possono guarire le vecchie ferite nell'abbondanza dei vermi che ancora le infettano? Come può durare per sempre una pace costruita sul massacro?

Even when we turn around, there are no footprints behind us... Nor the road we came along, nor the tune we hummed... When we die, No-one will know it's happened

Gabriel Walsh comes from a long line of hustlers. He's just the first one to go to law school and get a license for it.

If I'd known how many brownie points this daddy stuff could win me, I'd have talked you into kids years ago. Would have saved me a lot of trouble." "It would have." "Problem is, they're going to grow up." He paused. "We may need to have more." "We may.

One life per year. It seemed so moderate a price... until you looked back and realized you could fill a movie theater with your victims.

No one on their deathbed ever wished they spent more time in the office.

The story of his great-grandfather . . . was his own story, too.

As they went, The Witch's Revenge sang a song: I had no mother and my mother had no mother and her mother had no mother and her mother had no mother and her mother had no mother and you have no mother to sing you this song

If clothes are good, or even if they're bad in an interesting way, The Garment District is where they go when they die.

You suppose that you could walk around, but your feet tell you that the map leads directly through the briar wall, and you can't stray from the path that has been laid out for you. Remember what happened to the little girl, your great-grandmother, in her red woolen cape. Maps protect their travelers, but only if the travelers obey the dictates of their maps. This is what you have been told.

Most rich people have a gangster in their ancestry somewhere.

All birds and men are sure to die but songs may live forever.

The old men were still running the country. The politicians who had caused millions of deaths were now celebrating, as if they had done something wonderful.

You didn't fail me. You fed me and took care of me ... But there was something more important than all that, he thought. What Tom had given him was nothing so commonplace as food and shelter. Tom had given him something unique, something no other man had to give, something even his own father could not have given him: something that was a passion, a skill, an art, and a way of life. You gave me a cathedral...