Quotes About Remembrance

For some reason he remembered the Mexican name for carnations. Somebody must have told him when he was a kid. They were called Nails of Love ---and marigolds , the Nails of Death. It was a word lie nails---claveles. Maybe he'd better put marigolds on his mothers grave.

people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.

Rabbit wipes her chin and mouth with his handkerchief and, for weeks afterward, when all is lost, will take out this handkerchief and bury his nose in it, in its scarcely detectable smell of distant ocean.

You owe some things to the dead even if they're not your own dead. I guess in some way they're all your own.

A family's photograph album is generally about the extended family and, often, is all that remains of it.

John Le Mesurier wishes it to be known that he conked out on November 15th. He sadly misses family and friends.

My own family and thousands of other Japanese Americans were interned during World War II. It took our nation over 40 years to apologize

If we must die, then let us die fighting a battle worthy of remembrance in the tales of our descendants!

It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was.

To people who remember JFK's assassination, JFK Jr. will probably always be that boy saluting his father's coffin.

Bruises fade father, but the pain remains the same. And I still remember how you kept me so afraid.

My father died many years ago, and yet when something special happens to me, I talk to him secretly not really knowing whether he hears, but it makes me feel better to half believe it.

My father pulled into Pearl Harbor four days after the bombing, and he said, everything was still burning. He said they never told the public how bad it was. It was really bad.

Father's Day was great, but all the family gatherings brought up my mother's death. Maybe it's me, because I am a wimp. We would get together, but there was someone missing!

I mean my father was killed when I was six. And I only have tiny, tiny flashes of memory.

My father's body lies in a stone tomb high on a hill. People walk by, pause, think their own thoughts about him and move on, back to their own lives. I can never move on. He is everywhere.

What I fear is not being forgotten after my death, but, rather, not being enough forgotten. As we were saying, it is not our books that survive, but our poor lives that linger in the histories.

So many people choose silence after the immediate wake of a death out of fear of saying something out of turn or "bringing up bad memories" that bereaved people often feel forgotten.

It's true that I will not take anything with me when I leave this world. But I will definitely leave something to someone to remember me.

One day we all will live in the memories of others, to be a good one or a bad one depends on us!

Be remembered for the right reasons. Leave a legacy and a smile in your heart beyond life.

Only a few will be remembered for the things they say, but many are remember for the things they have done.

Everyone has a way out a way to escape a place to go to be free from thoughts, free from pain stress, despair, mine is a permanent escape problems too deep, to be temporary scars too rough to be memories memories too dark to be remembered.

Seashells remind us that every passing life leaves something beautiful behind.