Quotes About Remembrance

The person of a man may go, but the best part of him stays. It stays forever.

Sweets to the sweet, farewell! I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet's wife; I thought thy bride-bed to have decked, sweet maid, And not have strewed thy grave.

The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones.

And will 'a not come again? And will 'a not come again? No, no, he is dead, Go to thy death bed: He will never come again.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before: The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past

For thy sweet love remembr'd such wealth brings That then, I scorn to change my state with kings.

The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

Lay these Bones in an unworthy Urn, Tombless, with no Remembrance over them.

Then, were not summer's distillation left A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, Nor it nor no remembrance what it was. But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet, Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

Lay her i' the earth; And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring!

Sebastian says modestly that though his twin resembled him very much , she was reputed to be beautiful. But more importantly, she had a mind that was just and beautiful. she drowned in salt water, leaving sebastian to drown her memories in the salt water of his tears.

If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps

My oblivion is a very Antony and I am all forgotten.

What causes human beings to inflict upon themselves these stupid little scissor snips of unhappy remembrance?

I did not weep for the six million Jews or the two million Poles or the one million Serbs or the five million Russians -- I was unprepared to weep for all humanity -- but I did weep for these others who in one way or another had become dear to me, and my sobs made an unashamed racket across the abandoned beach

They had buried him under our elm tree, they said -- yet this was not totally true. For he really lay buried in my heart.

And not there, not there, not there, Your laughing face and your wind-blown hair Leave not even a ghost in the garden.

I do not propose to recount the Homeric struggles of the 'friendlies.' Little in them is worthy of remembrance; much seeks oblivion.

El olvido generoso tiende su velo, los tullidos se apartan y los seres dolientes se desvanecen en el triste crepúsculo de la memoria.

What combination of events could ever bring back again to France and Flanders the formidable Canadians of the Vimy Ridge; the glorious Australians of Villers-Bretonneux; the dauntless New Zealanders of the crater-fields of Passchendaele; the steadfast Indian Corps which in the cruel winter of

To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don't get over it because 'it' is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. THIS HOLE IN MY HEART IS IN THE SHAPE OF YOU AND NO-ONE ELSE CAN FIT IN. WHY WOULD I WANT THEM TO?