Quotes About Remembrance

Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected; for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green.

The greatest gift in life is to be remembered.

I decided to devote my life to telling the story because I felt that having survived I owe something to the dead. and anyone who does not remember betrays them again.

Hunting is now to most of us a game, whose relish seems based upon some mystic remembrance, in the blood, of ancient days when to hunter as well as hunted it was a matter of life and death.

You celebrate a person's life by living your life fully.

I write to breathe life back into memory.

I don't want to be remembered, I want to be here!

Memory is the miser of the mind; forgetfulness the spendthrift.

The catalog of emotion that disappears when someone dies, and the degree to which we rely on a few people to record something of what life was to them, is almost too much to bear.

Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep for the dead I loved so well.

When my life is throughAnd the angels ask me to recallThe thrill of them allThen I shall tell themI remember you

Dreams last so long, even after you're gone

When this happens, when you must protect yourself or those in your care, the real sin would be in taking life easily. The only way to maintain any humanity is to remember the faces of those who've died. To carry them within ourselves so that whatever good might have remained in their spirits has someplace to dwell. You cannot kill, then forget their faces without forgetting some part of yourself.

The only truly dead are those who have been forgotten.

What was she thinking before she jumped? She must have forgotten about her duties to her country, and her family too. Did she think about her granddaughter rushing back from Shandong for the funeral? Did she remember her blind sister? I

Jane Francklyne, born in 1565, had lived for less than a month. She left very little behind. She was buried in the Ecton churchyard, but her father would hardly have paid a carver to engrave so small a stone. If not for the parish register, there would be no record that this Jane Francklyne had ever lived at all. History is what is written and can be found; what isn't saved is lost, sunken and rotted, eaten by the earth.

There's solace in the thought that I will never finish missing her.

Death does not tidy up or sweep as it departs. We all of us leave traces other than the ashes and the bones.

Death steals everything except our stories.

You always hear all these statements like "Freedom isn't free." You hear the President talking about all these people making sacrifices. But you never really know until you carry one of them in a casket. When you feel their bodyweight. When you feel them. That's when you know. That's when you understand.

You always hear all these statements like "freedom isn't free." You hear the president talking about all these people making sacrifices. But you never really know until you carry one of them in the casket. When you feel their body weight. When you feel them, that's when you know. That's when you understand. —MARINE STAFF SERGEANT KEVIN THOMAS

It's funny the way most people love the dead. Once you are dead, you are made for life.

To all the fallen: may they be young forever in heaven. To all the wounded: may they have strength and heal. To all the bereaved: may they feel joy again. And please God," he added quietly, "may there one day be an end to war.

Good," I said. "And we will do the same. But I miss him. I miss him like I miss Mother. Of course we'll honor their memory, and of course their souls have gone on to new lives, but I hadn't finished talking to them in this life." I knew what death meant now. It was conversations cut off.