Quotes About Memorial

Roughly three thousand children6 under age eighteen lost a parent on 9/11, including 108 babies born in the months after their father's death.

Within six minutes of the crash,35 the first person fell or jumped. At least 110 more lives would end that way from the upper stories of the North Tower.

In the middle of the cemetery is a grassy plane, strangely vacant. There are no granite tombs or crumbling concrete, just a sun-washed treeless patch of green known as "No Man's Land." Here 1,500 unidentified bodies are buried. At one time, their skin burned with yellow fever; now they lie in a cool, dark place where long ago their arms and legs, hands and feet, were intertwined for eternity.

We are a rotating cast of aspects of self that are shown to one person, or in one setting, and hidden in another. Memorial services are often jarring in this regard: friends and relatives eulogize the deceased in such conflicting terms they might be talking of different people.

assassinated just four days before. "It was like

I officially declare the opening of the First Danielle Fox Memorial," Abbie pronounced solemnly.

When we speak of "branding" today, we should remember that it was at one time literal: with a hot iron pressed against human flesh.

The Great Stone at the center of the Somme memorial has this inscription: "Their name liveth for evermore." The memorial contains 73,077 names, the names of young men who were robbed of life. Note that we often say that they gave their lives, but of course, this is not true; their lives were taken from them. It is not outrageous to consider the carving of their names and the false promise of "evermore" another act of violence.

If the graves of the thousands of victims who have fallen in the terrible wars of the two races had been placed in line the philanthropist might travel from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the Lakes to the Gulf, and be constantly in sight of green mounds.

When I burn please bury me deep Somewhere on West Division Street Put a bottle beneat' my head 'n a bottle beneat' my feet

16 August 1804 was going to be a day they would remember for the rest of their lives.

the teeth marks he left in it on the day of Trafalgar are visible still.

On February 3, 1959, near Fargo, North Dakota, an airplane carrying Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper (J. P. Richardson) crashed, killing all aboard. Waylon Jennings, who was in Holly's band at the time, gave his seat to the Big Bopper at the last minute.

A bugler sounded the Last Post. Heartbreak made audible.

I would like to give them a grove of oak trees, I said. Trees are better than stone- life commemorating life.

We give our dead To the orchards And the groves. We give our dead To life.

Entre los artículos almacenados en el "Canadá" que más dolorosamente me impresionaron, había una fila de coches de niño, que me trajeron al pensamiento a todos los desgraciados párvulos que los alemanes habían ejecutado. Otra sección emocionante era la destinada a los zapatos de niños y juguetes, que siempre estaba bien abastecida

Bien sabían los ingleses que las naciones se construyen sobre las tumbas de sus héroes. De no ser así, ¿para qué querían la abadía de Westminster?

On my tombstone, I want written, 'He never did 'Love Boat!

Stranger, tell the Spartans that we behaved as they would wish us to, and are buried here.

Abraham Lincoln needs no marble shaft to perpetuate his name; his words are the most enduring monument, and will forever live in the hearts of the people.

Who upholds that the good is oft interred with our bones. 'Tisn't true though it is Shakspeare who says it; if you leave your family or your pet hospital a good many thousands, you will get the cardinal virtues, and a trifle more, in letters of gold on your tomb; though if you have lived up to your income, or forgotten to insure, any penny-alining La Monnoye will do to scribble your epitaph, and break off with "C'est trop mentir pour cinq écus!

Randy [Rhoads] was laid to rest at a place called Mountain View Cemetery, where his grandparents were buried. I made a vow there and then to honour his death every year by sending flowers. Unlike most of my vows, I kept it. But I've never been back to his graveside. I'd like to go there again one day, before I finally join him on the other side.

It's always the generals with the bloodiest records who are the first to shout what a hell it is. And it's always the war widows who lead the Memorial Day parades.