Grieve not, nor speak of me with tears, but laugh and talk of me as if I were beside you there.
Perhaps they are not stars in the sky, but rather openings where our loved ones shine down to let us know they are happy.
To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die.
He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
What the heart has once known, it shall never forget.
Black History Month must be more than just a month of remembrance; it should be a tribute to our history and reminder of the work that lies in the months and years ahead.
What we have once enjoyed we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
While both joy and sorrow are fleeting, and often intertwined, love has the power to overcome both. And love can last forever.
Nothing is more consuming, or more illogical, than the desire for remembrance.
The day the child realizes that all adults are imperfect he becomes an adolescent the day he forgives them, he becomes an adult the day he forgives himself he becomes wise.
The heart hath its own memory, like the mind. And in it are enshrined the precious keepsakes, into which is wrought the giver's loving thought.
Photographs are precious memories . . . the visual evidence of place and time and relationships . . . ritual talismans for the treasure chest of the heart.
Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
Remembering is an act of resurrection, each repetition a vital layer of mourning, in memory of those we are sure to meet again.
Most men remember obligations, but are not often likely to be grateful; the proud are made sour by the remembrance and the vain silent.
Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the remembrance.
Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.
Remembrance and reflection how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought.
Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.
We all live in suspense from day to day In other words, you are the hero of your own story.
Just the knowledge that a good book is awaiting one at the end of a long day makes that day happier.
Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer the secret of redemption lies in remembrance.
Poetry should please by a fine excess and not by singularity. It should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost as a remembrance.
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