Quotes About Remembrance

Dad, wherever you are, you are gone but you will never be forgotten.

Tombs are the clothes of the dead and a grave is a plain suit; while an expensive monument is one with embroidery.

We always knew how to honor fallen soldiers. They were killed for our sake, they went out on our mission. But how are we to mourn a random man killed in a terrorist attack while sitting in a cafe? How do you mourn a housewife who got on a bus and never returned?

I had a daughter and lost her a long while ago. That's too sad a story to go into.

When the last red man shall have perished from the earth and his memory among the white men shall have become a myth, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe. The white man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless.

I was sick. I guess I was about to crack up thinking about all my good buddies. They were better men than me and they're not coming back. Much less back to the White House, like me.

Fame is the inheritance not of the dead, but of the living. It is we who look back with lofty pride to the great names of antiquity.

I don't think Post often came to Princeton during the '30s. I can't remember ever seeing him in Princeton.

I grew up acutely aware of the exile and distance caused by war.

Sometimes I'm like Dory from 'Finding Nemo.' I can't remember facts.

My personal telephone book is a book of the dead now. I'm so old. Almost all of my friends have died, and I don't have the guts to take their names out of the book.

The sound of your voice, your radiant looks, Your smell the smell of your hair and many other things will live on inside me.

My death would be noted with nothing more than a headstone bearing the dates of my birth and my death to let the world know I had been here.

The dead don't bury the dead. Only the living can do that.

He told me he felt guilty to have lived, to have made it home when so many did not.

There are millions of forgotten young men buried

Food is the daily sacrament of unnecessary goodness, ordained for a continual remembrance that the world will always be more delicious than useful.

Every person passing through this life will unknowingly leave something and take something away. Most of this "something" cannot be seen or heard or numbered or scientifically detected or counted. It's what we leave in the minds of other people and what they leave in ours. Memory. The census doesn't count it. Nothing counts without it.

The dead could only speak through the mouths of those left behind, and through the signs they left scattered behind them.

He thought of all the times he could have visited, and hadn't. All those missed opportunities to call. All those times he'd forgotten her birthday.

The dead could only speak through the mouths of those left behind, and through the signs they left scattered behind them. Strike

Forty years ago, but it feels like yesterday. They don't disappear, the dead. It'd be easier if they did. I can see her so clearly. If she walked up those steps now, part of me wouldn't be surprised. She was such a vivid person.

I wanted to leave the whole war behind me, and yet I was seeing something on that battlefield that demanded commemoration. It was unholy ground, but I wanted to thank God for showing it to me. I would never again look at a man without wondering what crimes he was capable of committing. That seemed important to know.

Gone. and it was completely. Everyone I'd every known, every place I'd ever been. My Mother. My father. Rebecca. Out of site. Out of mind.