Quotes About Heritage

The home world exercises its siren call over us all. No matter how far we wander, or how long we are gone, it waits patiently. And when we return to it, as we must, it sings to us. We came out of its forests, waded ashore from its seas. It is in our blood, for good or ill.

Live from Babylon and Ur, From Athens and Alexandria and Rome, The voices of a thousand generations, Press us, Urge us on-.

I'm Irish. I think about death all the time.

United Kingdom

Traditional American handicraft was employed in the wall's construction, and so most of it had collapsed.

He smiled. "Would it help if I told you I'm a gentleman?" "No." She replied and lifted her chin slightly. "How about my…lineage?" "I'm American. We don't do lineage.

Right around the end of the fifties, college students and young people in general, began to realize that this music was almost like a history of our country - this music contained the real history of the people of this country.

Many lessons can be learned from the history of Western civilization, but one of them is especially clear. Lack of involvement in the affairs of one's society can lead to a sense of powerlessness. In an age that is often crisis-laden and chaotic, an understanding of our Western heritage and its lessons can be instrumental in helping us create new models for the future. For we are all creators of history, and the future of Western and indeed world civilization depends on us.

Every animal leaves traces of what it was; man alone leaves traces of what he created.

Civilisation hangs suspended, from generation to generation, by the gossamer strand of memory. If only one cohort of mothers and fathers fails to convey to its children what it has learned from its parents, then the great chain of learning and wisdom snaps. If the guardians of human knowledge stumble only one time, in their fall collapses the whole edifice of knowledge and understanding.

I'm one eighth Lakota, but I don't think one eighth of anything counts for much. I'm half Irish, and then some Austrians got into the mix. Then there's the English part. That's where Hillary came from. I bet the Indians even watch the weather channel.

Look how beautifully black we are. And as we dance, I am not Melody who is sixteen, I am not my parents' once illegitimate daughter—I am a narrative, someone's almost forgotten story. Remembered.

I am born as the South explodes, too many people too many years enslaved, then emancipated but not free, the people who look like me keep fighting and marching and getting killed so that today— February 12, 1963 and every day from this moment on, brown children like me can grow up free. Can grow up learning and voting and walking and riding wherever we want. I am born in Ohio but the stories of South Carolina already run like rivers through my veins.

We knew Down South. Everyone had one. Jamaica, Dominican Republic, Puerto Rico.

My grandmother tells us all this as we sit at her feet, each story like a photograph we can look right into, see our mother there marchers and dogs and kittens all blending

You the first in your tribe to go to college? Iris shook her head. It was a question about class. She knew that now. It was the what-are-you question. The where and what and who do you come from.

After the chicken is fried and wrapped in wax paper, tucked gently into cardboard shoe boxes and tied with string... After the corn bread is cut into wedges, the peaches washed and dried... After the sweet tea is poured into mason jars twisted tight and the deviled eggs are scooped back inside their egg-white beds slipped into porcelain bowls that are my mother's now, a gift her mother sends with her on the journey...

And when she says, I love you, too the South is so heavy in her mouth my eyes fill up with the missing of everything and everyone I've ever known.

the South is so heavy in her mouth my eyes fill up with the missing of everything and everyone I've ever known.

As we dance, I am not Melody, I am a narrative, someone's almost forgotten story. Remembered.

Maybe this was the moment when I knew I was part of a long line of almost erased stories. A child of denial. Of magical thinking.

Her deeply tanned skin and dark gray eyes made people look at her, then look at him. She'd always kept her hair cut short, but that year it had grown into loose curls with so much gray and blond moving through it. They didn't match, the two of them. When he held his arm against hers and asked why, she laughed and said, The black ancestors beat the crap out of the white ones and said, Let this baby on through.

Everything comes from experience; yet not from actual experience, reiterated by each individual with each generation, but instead from experience accumulated by the entire ancestry of the species in the course of its evolution.

Todo ser vivo es también un fósil. Lleva en sí, y hasta en la estructura microscópica de sus proteínas, las huellas, si no los estigmas, de su ascendencia. Esto es más cierto en el Hombre que en cualquier otra especie animal, en razón de la dualidad, física e «ideal», de la evolución de la que es heredero.