Quotes About Forgotten

All things come to an end. He couldn't lift the old sword any more. There was no strength left. Nothing. The room was growing blurry. All things come to an end, but some only lie still, forgotten… There was a cold feeling in Logen's stomach, a feeling he hadn't felt for a long time. "No," he whispered. "I'm free of you." But it was too late. Too late…

When the fighting is over you dig, if you're still alive. You dig graves for your dead comrades, A last mark of respect, however little you might have had for them. You dig as deep as you can bothered, you dump then in, you cover them up, they rot away and are forgotten. That's the way it's always been.

So many have wept for Jesus on His cross. As if no one else has ever suffered as He suffered. As if millions have not shuffled to worse deaths, and died unremembered.

First time I ever joint the Chorus," Don Lewiston said, "I forgot the face of my father

He had been a demon for just two days, but the time when he knew what it was like to be loved seemed to exist in a hazily recalled past, to have been left behind long ago.

They had forgotten their own names, the voices of their mothers, the faces of their fathers.

Henry Smith Williams died in 1940. Drug Addicts Are Human Beings remained out of print and largely forgotten for the rest of Anslinger's life, and ours. The book contained a prediction. If this drug war continues, Henry Smith Williams wrote, there will be a five-billion-dollar drug smuggling industry in the United States in fifty years' time. He was right almost to the exact year.58

You have to make a decision, what you want to do in life, ... Your deal can be, you can leave tomorrow. Soon as you leave, you will be forgotten.

The spoken word vanished with the wind. Likewise, the unrecorded life disappears as if it never existed.

My life is like a lone, forgotten Q-Tip in the second-to-last drawer.

It's as if we live in a house which has a vast treasury in one of its rooms. Only we've forgotten about it. So, instead of living a life of royalty, we go about in poverty.

Out of our deepest memories come the forgotten forms of the past, given new life by the living sentience of an ancient and eternal forest.

Forgotten mornings when he walked with his motherThrough the parablesOf sunlightAnd the legend of the green chapels.

She has forgotten dying.

It all seems so sad, so unbearably sad for a second, to think of the lovely old maple with the swing. We never told the tree how much we loved it. We never gave it a name, never did anything for it.

There's nothing in our whole house that says he ever lived with us, except me. Why are you allowed to erase my father and I'm not allowed to " "Erase yourself?" Mummy says.

When love flies it is remembered not as love but as something else. Blessed are the uneducated, who forget it entirely, and are never conscious of folly or pruriency in the past, of long aimless conversations.

It is well to be remembered with love. It is not so very dreadful to be forgotten entirely. But if we shall resent anything on earth at all, we shall resent the consecration of a deserted room.

The poet speaks to all men of that other life of theirs that they have smothered and forgotten.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,I have forgotten, and what arms have lainUnder my head till morning;

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts to-night, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply...

Death devours all lovely things: Lesbia with her sparrow Shares the darkness - presently Every bed is narrow. Unremembered as old rain Dries the sheer libation; And the little petulant hand Is an annotation. After all, my erstwhile dear, My no longer cherished, Need we say it was not love, Just because it perished? — Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Passer Mortuus Est," Second April . (New York: Mitchell Kennerley, 1921)

The past was an empty space, a blurry movie in which they had played the parts, on their own, of other people they'd forgotten.

Mademoiselle from Armenteers, Hasn't been kissed in forty years, Hinky dinky, parley-voo.