The evil that men do lives after them;
The good is oft interred with their bones.
Tags: evil death good remembrance reputation legacy deeds acts
When we think of the past it's the beautiful things we pick out. We want to believe it was all like that.
Margaret AtwoodTags: memory remembrance the-past
There are two ways to live a life either forget everything or, remember nothing.
Santosh KalwarTags: life live remembrance
As if the dead really do persist, even in a bottle of wine.
Thomas PynchonTags: persistence death dead remembrance wine persist
There is no death in remembrance. Remember me, Sarah. Remember me, and a part of me will always be with you." - Martha Carrier to her daughter, Sarah Carrier
Kathleen KentTags: death remembrance parental-love
You that in far-off countries of the sky can dwell secure, look back upon me here; for I am weary of this frail world's decay.
Murasaki ShikibuTags: death decay remembrance
Remembrance restores possibility to the past, making what happened incomplete and completing what never was. Remembrance is neither what happened nor what did not happen but, rather, their potentialization, their becoming possible once again.
Giorgio AgambenTags: nostalgia possibility remembrance
You remember only what you want to remember. You know only what your heart allows you to know.
Amy TanTags: knowledge fiction understanding memory remembrance
People always talk about how hard it can be to remember things - where they left their keys, or the name of an acquaintance - but no one ever talks about how much effort we put into forgetting. I am exhausted from the effort to forget... There are things that have to be forgotten if you want to go on living.
Stephen CarpenterTags: memory memories remembrance forgetting forgotten remembering
When someone dies they can be any age you remember can't they ' she asked. As I tried to think of a reply she continued 'You probably think about the grown-up Tess because you were still close to her. But when I woke up I thought of her when she was three wearing a fairy skirt I'd got her in the Woolworth's and a policeman's helmet. Her wand was a wooden spoon. On the bus yesterday I imagined holding her when she was two days old. I felt the warmth of her. I remembered all her fingers clasped around my finger so tiny they didn't even meet. I remembered the shape of her head and stroking the nape of her neck till she slept. I remembered her smell. She smelled of innocence. Other times she's thirteen and so pretty that I worry for her everytime I see a man look at her. All of those Tesses is my daughter.
Rosamund LuptonTags: death motherhood remembrance
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