Listen with your heart, you will understand.— Pocahontas
Contentment Death Memorial quotations
How people die remains in the memory of those who live on
I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death.
They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories. We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by having shared their love.
The song is ended, but the melody lingers on.
A well-spent day brings happy sleep.
The brave die never, though they sleep in dust: Their courage nerves a thousand living men.
Death ends a life, not a relationship.
Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature.
I can't think of a more wonderful thanksgiving for the life I've had than that everyone should be jolly at my funeral.
There will be three cats, kin of your kin, with the power of the stars in their paws. They will find a fourth, and the battle between light and dark will be won. A new leader will rise from the shadows of his death, and the clan will survive beyond thge memories of his memeries. This is how it has always been and alway will be.
Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot heal.
I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are.
Life is eternal; and love is immortal; and death is only a horizon; and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
In the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life, there is a deafening alleluia rising from the souls of those who weep, and of those who weep with those who weep. If you watch, you will see The hand of God putting the stars back in their skies one by one.
The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master.
Men passionately desire to live after death, but they often pass away without noticing the fact that the memory of a really good person always lives. It is impressed upon the next generation, and is transmitted again to the children. Is that not an immortality worth striving for?
To us who remain behind is left this day of memories.
Every year--in the full tide of spring, at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life--there comes a pause, and through the silence we hear the lonely pipe of death.
Like a bird singing in the rain, let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.
No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.
Death cannot kill what never dies.
Oh heart, if one should say to you that the soul perishes like the body, answer that the flower withers, but the seed remains.
May be she’ll learn something about what death really is, which is where the pain stops and the good memories begin. Not the end of life but the end of pain.
The life given us, by nature is short; but the memory of a well-spent life is eternal.
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner. All is well.
Everything that has a beginning has an ending. Make your peace with that and all will be well.
Those we love don't go away, they sit beside us every day.
I am the living death, a Memorial Day on wheels.
I am your Yankee Doodle Dandy, your John Wayne come home, your Fourth of July firecracker exploding in the grave.
Death is not the end Death can never be the end.
Death is the road. Life is the traveller. The Soul is the Guide ... Our mind thinks of death. Our heart thinks of life Our soul thinks of Immortality
I am a hopeless materialist. I see the soul as nothing else than the sim of activities of the organism plus personal habits - plus inherited habits, memories, experiences, of the organism. I believe that when I am dead, I am dead. I believe that with my death I am just as much obliterated as the last mosquito you and I squashed.
And with the morn those angel faces smile Which I have loved long since and lost awhile.
Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.
Blessed be Thou, my Lord Jesus Christ, who didst foretell Thy death before the time, and in the Last Supper didst wonderfully consecrate Thy precious Body of material bread, and also charitably gave it to Thy Apostles, in memory of Thy most worthy Passion
Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die.
I answer the heroic question Death where is thy sting? It is here in my heart and mind and memories
To extend our memories by monuments, whose death we daily pray for, and whose duration we cannot hope, without injury to our expectations in the advent of the last day, were a contradiction to our belief.