Quotes About Remembrance

There are too many of them,' he said. 'It's simpler if they just remember me.

THE GREATER THE MONUMENT, the greater the man. The stone the Greeks quarry for his grave is huge and white, stretching up to the sky. ACHILLES, it reads. It will stand for him, and speak to all who pass: he lived and died, and lives again in memory.

And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone. Do you think?

But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. A C H I L L E S, it reads. And beside it, P A T R O C L U S.

pero los recuerdos estaban hechos de aire, y sus rastros se habian borrado.

And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth while another is gone.

And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone

his beautiful body lost to bones and gray ash.

I have done it," she says. At first, I do not understand. But then I see the tomb, and the marks she has made on the stone. ACHILLES, it reads. And beside it, PATROCLUS. "Go," she says. "He waits for you.

It was true what they had been saying: if people remember you, then you're not dead. It was very comforting.

She knew what the Barbour aftershave would make her think of, and of course it did with its forest violets and cinnamon bark.

A]fter all, what does it mean for pain to be 'memorable'? You're either in pain or you're not. And it isn't the pain that one forgets. It's the touching death part. As the baby might say to its mother, we might say to death: I forget you, but you remember me.

For to wish to forget how much you loved someone—and then, to actually forget—can feel, at times, like the slaughter of a beautiful bird who chose, by nothing short of grace, to make a habitat of your heart.

Do you still think of her, do you still catch yourself listening for her footsteps, for the sound of her breathing at night, because I do, all the time. I still think that one day I might wake and she will be there, next to me, again; there will have been some wrinkle or pleat in time and we will be back to where we were, when she was living and breathing.

What are you supposed to do with all the love you have for somebody if that person is no longer there? What happens to all that leftover love? Do you suppress it? Do you ignore it? Are you supposed to give it to someone else? I never knew it was possible to think about someone all of the time, for someone to be always doing acrobatic leaps across your thoughts. Everything else was an unwelcome distraction from what I wanted to think about.

Judith is whimpering, Susanna clutching her hand, so Agnes misses the moment, she misses seeing her son, the shroud see sewed for him, disappearing from view, entering the dark black river-sodden earth. It was there one moment, then she dipped her head to look at Judith and then it was gone. Never to be seen again.

I testify that I am free and alive when I am forgotten

They asked 'do you love her to death?' I said 'speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.

They asked, "do you love her to death?" I said, "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life.

they asked "do you love her to death? i said "speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

Her father is dead. . . . Now she must never mention his name again. No one will ever mention his name. She must try not to think about him. He is dead.

And things go unsaid soon get forgotten

That was all it took – a shower of rain, the slam of a door, the thrust of a knife or a gunshot – and just like that, a person could be gone with nothing but the memories of others to show that they'd ever existed.

Agony does not vanish with time. Time does not heal. Time may wear away the sharper pangs of torment and it may be that the agony is a remembered agony, but the littlest remembrance brings vividly alive the reality of pain. Time sifts a little dust over the wounds that is blown away by the simplest reminder. Agony remains.