Quotes About Remembrance

L'honneur d'un peuple appartient aux morts et les vivants n'en ont que l'usufruit

He has no friends, no living relatives. No one to call. If we are not in someone else's memory, do we even exist at all?

I still did not cry. I tried not to think of her. I had loved her too much, too intensely. In danger all the time, we had clung to one another. We had lived several lifetimes in our years together. Now she was gone." - Gerald Green, Holocaust

Gabito would say later that he had no memory of his mother. She had left him before he could retain any memories at all.

I asked once, and the library assistant told me there were more than a hundred thousand books there, and more than sixty million pages of documents. It's a good number, I think: ten pages for every person who died. A kind of monument in paper for people who have no gravestones.

A good man never dies.

Oh, may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again.

Alive, ridiculous, and dead forgot?

Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell.

Memory is the thing you forget with.

The palest ink is better than the best memory.

To want to forget something is to think of it.

What is forgiven is usually well remembered.

If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth.

Monuments! what are they? the very pyramids have forgotten their builders, or to whom they were dedicated. Deeds, not stones, are the true monuments of the great.

By the waters of Babylon we sat down and wept, Remembering thee.

Scrolls: write on them what you want to be remembered for.

Home they brought her warrior dead.

But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat The soldier's last tattoo; No more on Life's parade shall meet The brave and fallen few. On Fame's eternal camping-ground Their silent tents are spread, And Glory guards, with solemn round The bivouac of the dead.

There is something pleasurable in calm remembrance of a past sorrow.

Fame has only the span of the day, they say. But to live in the hearts of people-that is worth something.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear.

Don't let it be forgot, That once there was a spot -For one brief shining moment That was known as Camelot.