Quotes About Remembrance

A veces creía que cada calle de Barcelona iba asociada a un recuerdo.

Los monumentos, hay que admitirlo, son piedras que cuestan una fortuna y que se olvidarían si no fuera porque estorban el tránsito.

Y yo empecé a encapsular mis recuerdos y a almacenarlos en esa biblioteca de añoranzas que a veces es nuestra mente.

Nothing will remain of me... I die without seeing the sun rise on my country. You who are to see the dawn, welcome it, and do not forget those who fell during the night!

History repeats itself, but the special call of an art which has passed away is never reproduced. It is as utterly gone out of the world as the song of a destroyed wild bird.

Passchendaele ended in breathtaking losses. More than 310,000 British, 85,000 Frenchmen, and 260,000 Germans, a total of 655,000, had fallen in a battle fought over a field five miles wide.

The ground over which the bulk of the battles raged was only about eighty-five miles wide, a relatively modest battleground but a rather large cemetery, considering the 3,258,610 killed there and the 7,745,920 wounded, for total losses of 11,004,530 men.

Windows were broken. Where not broken they were boarded up, had been for years: the rust from nailheads had written long, sad farewells down the salt-silvered planks.

We who have seen war, will never stop seeing it. In the silence of the night, we will always hear the screams. So this is our story, for we were soldiers once, and young

We who have seen war will never stop seeing it.

Does the body remember? When the mind has forgotten?…And if dreams unmask our longings, as the wise have claimed since the Greeks, why is it that the dead are so often silent when we dream them? Don't we want them to speak? What would they say?

So war es damals! Alles, was wuchs, brauchte viel Zeit zum Wachsen; und alles, was unterging, brauchte lange Zeit, um vergessen zu werden. Aber alles, was einmal vorhanden gewesen war, hatte seine Spuren hinterlassen, und man lebte dazumal von den Erinnerungen, wie man heutzutage lebt von der Fähigkeit, schnell und nachdrücklich zu vergessen.

It wasn't till much later — long after the Great War, which people call the "World War," and in my view rightly, and not for the usual reason, that the whole world was involved in it, but rather because as a result of it we lost a whole world, our world.

That was how things were back then. Anything that grew took its time growing, and anything that perished took a long time to be forgotten. But everything that had once existed left its traces, and people lived on memories just as they now live on the ability to forget quickly and emphatically.

Mourning Micah again won't change anything. He'd be proud I came here. This felt like his tree now.

Yes." The word was breathed out on a sigh of satisfaction. "Shadowpaw, your name will be remembered for as long as the Clans survive.

Her spirit will live on as long as ours do, because she will live inside us.

She could never truly be gone.

Willowshine and I created a circle of ferns in which we can each remember our lost Clanmates

He died when he was only nineteen years old. I was still a baby at the time, so I didn't remember him. Growing up, I'd always told myself that was lucky. Because you can't miss someone you don't remember. But the truth was, I did miss him.

Dead men by mass production––in one country after another––month after month and year after year. Dead men in winter and dead men in summer. Dead men in such familiar promiscuity that they become monotonous. Dead men in such monstrous infinity that you come almost to hate them. These are the things that you at home need not even try to understand.

Dead men in such familiar promiscuity that they become monotonous. Dead men in such monstrous infinity that you come almost to hate them. Those are the things that you at home need not even try to understand. To you at home they are columns of figures, or he is a near one who went away and just didn't come back. You didn't see him lying so grotesque and pasty beside the gravel road in France. We saw him, saw him by the multiple thousands. That's the difference.

Il mio lutto per lui è una pozza d'acqua marina prosciugata. Tra gli scogli resta il sale asciutto, dei singhiozzi a secco.

They never returned. Only the old were left. And they began to die off. Those who did not die left the village by other means. In the end there was only one widow left, a dressmaker, and she began to sew the visages of those who had vanished. She hand-stitched the bodies and the clothes; she perfected the faces. Each and every doll was a precise replica of someone who once lived there.