Quotes About Remembrance

We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.

they've all come to the same end. They are dust beneath the soil. All that is left behind lies in the people who remain. And the stories.

I realize that those who have loved us are never really gone. They live on in all the ones we love and all the ways we love. They are the reason we know how to love at all.

At the very least, we must tell our stories, mustn't we? Speak the names? You know, there is an old proverb that says, 'We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.' The first death is beyond our

Find the beautiful things, little brother. Every time you mourn for me, I'll be far away. But when you celebrate, I'll be right there with you, dancing.

You know there is an old proverb that says, 'We die once when the last breath leaves our bodies. We die a second time when the last person speaks our name.' The first death is beyond our control, but the second one we can strive to prevent.

Every time you mourn for me, I'll be far away. But when you celebrate, I'll be right there with you, dancing.

May your names never go unspoken and your stories forever be told.

Today I bring you cold chrysanthemums, white as absence, long-stemmed as my grief. I stand before your grave, a few unfallen leaves overhead, the sucking mud beneath.

Our love for people doesn't end when they pass away. More often our feelings deepen as we realize how much they mean to us and how dearly we miss them.

Marcellus cudgeled his memory. What did he know about Arpino? Delicious little melons! Arpino melons! And exactly the right time for them, too.

The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.

Who tracks the steps of glory to the grave?

History, with all her volumes vast, hath but one page

They grieved for those who perished with the cutter, and also for the biscuit casks and butter.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

Oh! may my shade behold no sculptured urns, To mark the spot where earth to earth returns! No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone; My epitaph shall be my name alone:

The iron did not remember the blood it had once moved within, the phosphorous had forgot the savage brain.

E pensou o mesmo naquele momento, porque os sentimentos perturbadores permaneciam ali, sob o bolso do peito do colete, onde ele guardava um toco de lápis que ela havia deixado para trás na noite anterior.

I suppose no one is truly dead when we go on loving them.

Graves aren't for the dead. They're for the loved ones the dead leave behind them. Once those loved ones have gone, once all the lives that have touched the occupant of any given grave had ended, then the grave's purpose was fulfilled and ended.

It's a shadelight. Some of my men put one up whenever I lose a member of the crew. To light his shade's way back to his bunk, so he can rest.

It is the nature of the universe that things remain. Nothing ever disappears completely. The very sound of Creation still echoes throughout the vast darkness: The universe remembers

When we die we are only stories in the minds of others, I thought