Quotes About Remembrance

An Elegy A thousand times must we deplore The lost will never come to life again; Even as flowing water runs away, Returning nevermore. Lady Kanin

She thinks about how sad it is that we remember the killers and not their victims.

The route had been renamed after the war, Sergeant Booth had told them in the taxi. Now it was known as the Road of Remembrance. To Billy, recalling Alf Dawkins with his crutches and his nervous tick, begging for half-crowns, it seemed more a case of how quickly people forgot.

The war is over. They just signed the armistice. Eleven o'clock this morning, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

My heart has joined the Thousand, for my friend stopped running today.

We pass and leave you lying. No need for rhetoric, for funeral music, for melancholy bugle-calls. No need for tears now, no need for regret. We took our risk with you; you died and we live. We take your noble gift, salute for the last time those lines of pitiable crosses, those solitary mounds, those unknown graves, and turn to live our lives out as we may.

like maintaining the grounds of a castle when the knight, fallen in battle, will never be returning

There is nothing on earth so easy as to forget, if a person chooses to set about it. I'm sure I have as much forgot your poor, dear uncle, as if he had never existed; and I thought it my duty to do so.

The more stuff a child gets in December, the less stuff the child will remember having gotten by January.

Now I am dead and laid in my grave And that my bones are rotten, By this shall I remembered be, Or else I am forgotten.

Human beings do terrible things to each other and the tragic thing about it all is the way the remembrance of past hurt can rob us of our future and become the narrative of our lives.

Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, Lilies and laurels over them we lay, And violets o'er each unforgotten head.

It is strange that the mind will forget so much, and yet hold a picture of flowers that have been dead for thirty years or more...

So all I could have of Cienwen was in my mind, and I kept her there as men keep libraries of rare books, seldom to be touched but happy to know you have got.

The trenches are all filled in, but the boys are still dying.' Then I could read her thoughts and I knew what this day meant. Mrs. Abernathy's son could have been my dad.

Nobody a writer ever loved is dead.

The trenches are all filled in, but the boys are still dying.

The trees have vanished and the town forgets. But not the land.

And yet, places remember what people forget.

All the good things in her came into us. Now we keep her alive, with whatever we can remember

IT'S INDIANA, 1990. Here, five years is a generation, fifty is archaeology, and anything older shades off into legend. And yet, places remember what people forget.

Twentieth Century Book of the Dead.

But one does not forget by trying to forget. One only remembers.

We owe uniqueness to our dead at the very least