Quotes About Remembrance

The only thing faster than the speed of thought is the speed of forgetfulness. Good thing we have other people to help us remember.

Enormous cemeteries existed among sedentary civilizations, where the weight of the past grew larger than any present time.

Never forget me, because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.

Our pictures are our footprints. It's the best way to tell people we were here.

The best way to keep good acts in memory is to refresh them with new.

The best memories are those which we have forgotten.

There should be a stated day for commemorating the birthday of our Savior, because there is danger that what may be done on any day, will be neglected.

I did two things on my seventy-fifth birthday. I visited my wife's grave. Then I joined the army.

In addition to unfinished business, some ghosts haunt so that they will be remembered.

Far as I'm concerned, they're all still here, like a lot of dear little ghosts.

Today in the United States, corpses that are unclaimed or unidentified or that no family member or friend can afford to bury are generally buried in mass graves. In Chicago, Illinois, they are buried in groups of about thirty-five in a memorial park. In New York City they are ferried to Hart Island for burial in a mass grave. These free burial sites are typically known as potter's fields.

What did it mean for a whole civilization to be expunged from the earth? What did it mean when a people who loved and worked and built a culture on the land where they had lived for three thousand years were destroyed? What did it mean for the human race?

When a civilization is erased, there is a new darkness on the earth. I could feel dust blowing over dry land, where now blood is part of the rocks, where the water will never run clean again.

The thing that eventually strikes you about the death of someone you love is the permanence. When that hits, there is an overpowering sense of loneliness and aloneness. Those wounds do not remain raw, not forever, but they do remain.

The casualties were beyond comprehension with 57,470 British casualties on the first day alone. Of these a staggering 19,240 were killed.

Anyway, they took her body to McBurney's Funeral Home in Motley. They'll be planting her tomorrow.

the wonder of Being. Sometimes Being breaks in on us: A stunning sunset, an eagle in the sky or a snake upon a rock, a soul-stretching movement of a Beethoven Quartet, and at those moments the glory of Being breaks into our black-and-white lives in bright colors. In Heideggerian terms, the way of grace is the way of remembrance. Those who live by the way of grace live always with the remembrance of Being.

It comes down to this. When we die, not only will our bodies be gone, but so will the people we remember. We live in the world, and we recall the world, and one day we won't do either anymore. The church bells will ring and the drunks will drink.

Robert Louis Stevenson, sung by Bryn Terfel: Now when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.

He remembered the faces of his friends, bereft poor corpses, abandoned of life.

To negate the pain, men and gods forget, pretend to forget, then forget to pretend.

The cries of the dead are terrible indeed; you should try not to hear them.

But the actual touch of her lingered, inside his heart. That remained. In all the years of his life ahead, the long years without her, with never seeing her or hearing from her or knowing anything about her, if she was alive or happy or dead or what, that touch stayed locked within him, sealed in himself, and never went away. That one touch of her hand.

In wretched little lives like that, someone must intervene. Or at least mark their sad comings and goings. Mark and if possible permanently record so they'll be remembered. For a better day, later on, when people will understand.