#memorial

We will not allow this day of the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial to go without somebody going to jail. ↗

— Cornel West

#day #go #going #jail #jr

For The Fallen" With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,  England mourns for her dead across the sea.  Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,  Fallen in the cause of the free.  Solemn the drums thrill;  Death august and royal  Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,  There is music in the midst of desolation  And a glory that shines upon our tears.  They went with songs to the battle, they were young,  Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.  They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;  They fell with their faces to the foe.  They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:  Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.  At the going down of the sun and in the morning  We will remember them.  They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;  They sit no more at familiar tables of home;  They have no lot in our labour of the day-time; They sleep beyond England's foam.  But where our desires are and our hopes profound,  Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,  To the innermost heart of their own land they are known  As the stars are known to the Night;  As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,  Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;  As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,  To the end, to the end, they remain. 

— Lawrence Binyon

#age

It's about how to bring together the seemingly contradictory aspects of the memorial, which is about a tragedy and how it changed the world, but also about creating a vital and beautiful city of the 21st century. ↗

— Daniel Libeskind

#about #also #aspects #beautiful #beautiful city

Those who first oppose a good work, seize it and make it their own, when the cornerstone is laid and memorial tablets are erected. ↗

— Edgar Lee Masters

#erected #first #good #good work #laid

A man's country is not a certain area of land, of mountains, rivers, and woods, but it is a principle and patriotism is loyalty to that principle. ↗

— George William Curtis

#area #certain #country #land #loyalty

My research, even before 1972, moved in directions beyond those cited for the Nobel Memorial Prize. Most of it, in one way or another, deals with information as an economic variable, both as to its production and as to its use. ↗

— Kenneth Joseph Arrow

#before #beyond #both #cited #deals

I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country. ↗

— Nathan Hale

#country #i #life #lose #only

Mi nieto corría delante con los pies para los lados y moviendo los brazos como un pato. Nos acercamos al arroyo, tumultuoso en invierno, donde habíamos esparcido tus cenizas. Lo reconoció al punto. -Paula estaba enferma ayer-dijo; para él todo pasado era ayer. -Sí. Se murió. -¿Quién la mató? -No es como en la televisión, Alejandro, a veces la gente se enferma y se muere, así no más. -Adónde van los muertos? -No sé exactamente. -Ella se fue por allí-dijo señalando el arroyo. -Sus cenizas se fueron en el agua, pero su espíritu vive en este bosque.¿No te parece lindo? -No. Sería mejor que viviera con nosotros-decidió. ↗

— Isabel Allende

#death

I suppose I wouldn’t desire having memorial services after I pass by… I think that it would have a precious little to do with my inworld immortality because I think I’ll have a precious little to do with the person to be remembered… Who can really tell? ↗

— Thanos Grigoriou

#imortality #memorial #death

Why is it we want so badly to memorialize ourselves? Even while we're still alive. We wish to assert our existence, like dogs peeing on fire hydrants. We put on display our framed photographs, our parchment diplomas, our silver-plated cups; we monogram our linen, we carve our names on trees, we scrawl them on washroom walls. It's all the same impulse. What do we hope from it? Applause, envy, respect? Or simply attention, of any kind we can get? At the very least we want a witness. We can't stand the idea of our own voices falling silent finally, like a radio running down. ↗

— Margaret Atwood

#respect