Quotes About Remembrance

Can storied urn, or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death?

How we keep these dead souls in our hearts. Each one of us carries within himself his necropolis.

I like to think that people live on in other people's memories.

Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?

I want to be cremated so people won't come to worship at my bones.

Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.

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

My brother was a great favorite with everybody, and his death cast a gloom upon the whole neighborhood.

Every soldier in the course of time exists only in the breath of written word.

A place where something so terrible had happened shouldn't continue to exist in the world

Alas, how can we help but mourn When hero bosoms yield their breath! A century itself may bear But once the flower of such a death.

The dead have nothing except the memory they've left.

If we lose our memory, we lose ourselves. Forgetting is one of the symptoms of death. Without memory we cease to be human beings.

Remembrance of death saves one from this world's deceit.

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!

My husband wanted to be cremated. I told him I'd scatter his ashes at Neiman Marcus - that way, I'd visit him every day.

Not all of me shall die.

The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone.

I shall not altogether die.

When people and animals die, they stay with us in our minds.

Part of elegy is confrontation - not just with the idea of death, but with the person who has died.

A phone at a cemetery would be ringing off the hook. If you could get them on the phone . .

The castle will seem very quiet and strange without you here. The stone stairs and the chapel will miss your footstep, the gateway will will miss your laughter, and the wall will miss your shadow.

And we hardly ever speak of her. It is as if we cannot bring ourselves to speak of her as dead, and we cannot lie to ourselves that she is still alive.