Best 95 quotes in «eulogy quotes» category

Losing some faculties is worse than losing your life.

Nothing can save you from hate, empty all your treasures and give it to people and one out of the multitudes will curse you, so live your life to please yourself and not others.

Most human beings would have never been pained by the death of a human being if they had never seen a human being or pretending to be pained by that.

May the saints of all the stars and constellations bring you hope as they guide you out of the dark and into the light, on this voyage and the next. And all the journeys still to come. For now and evermore. - The Doctor.

MOTHER IS WATER I wish I could Shower your head with flowers And anoint your feet with my tears, For I know I have caused you So much heartache, frustration and despair – Throughout my youthful years. I wish I could give you The remainder of my life To add to yours, Or simply erase The lines on your face, And mend all that has been torn. For next to God, You are the fire That has given light To the flame in each of my eyes. You are the fountain That nourished my growth, And from your chalice – Gave me life. Without the wetness of your love, The fragrance of your water, Or the trickling sounds of Your voice, I shall always feel thirsty.

The dead never truly die. They simply change form.

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up - for you the flag is flung - for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths - for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead.

Randolph Maddix, a schizophrenic who lived at a private home for the mentally ill in Brooklyn, was often left alone to suffer seizures, his body crumpling to the floor of his squalid room. The home, Seaport Manor, is responsible for 325 starkly ill people, yet many of its workers could barely qualify for fast-food jobs. So it was no surprise that Mr. Maddix, 51, was dead for more than 12 hours before an aide finally checked on him. His back, curled and stiff with rigor mortis, had to be broken to fit him into a body bag.” THE NEW YORK TIMES April 28, 2002

Such pedantic apotheosis is reached by so few, and when parishioners are left without their guiding star, we can only desperately cling to the last intimations of a passing titan.

The facts of a man’s life ain’t very important, but it seems like they should get said anyways.

Scarring smiles, hidden tears, You stand, heads bowed and revere The soul before us, burnt and torn Her faded essence, we sadly mourn And though she walked a path of lies Her spirit surely still shall rise And among her own, she can be at peace An eternal angel, she’s been released.

Taabini hii ni ngumu sana kwangu kuandika pamoja na kwamba ni miaka mitatu kamili toka giza liingie. Mwaka 2014, Novemba 4, nilimpoteza bibi yangu mpendwa, Martha Maregesi, aliyefariki dunia kutokana na ukongo wa kiharusi, na tutamkumbuka daima. Alikuwa na roho ya kipekee; na kifo chake kiliwagusa wengi, pamoja na kwamba aliishi maisha kamili, zaidi ya siku 25550, siku 5110 zaidi, ambazo ndizo tulizopangiwa na Mungu. Mapenzi ya mtu kwa bibi yake ni mapenzi ya kipekee. Nadhani Mungu aliwapa mabibi wote uwezo maalumu wa kuwapenda wajukuu zao, na kufanya maisha yao yatimie, kuwafanya wawe binadamu wazuri na wenye maadili mema. Alichangia pakubwa katika malezi yangu ya utotoni; na aghalabu naweza kukumbuka nikiwa naye jikoni akipika, huku mimi nikifanya kazi nyingine, lakini wakati huohuo akinifundisha mambo kadha wa kadha ya kunikomaza kimaisha. Bibi hakuwa tu bibi. Alikuwa mlezi, rafiki na mtu aliyenihamasisha sana katika maisha. Kifo kinaleta huzuni lakini kinaleta tumaini. Naamini bibi yangu atakwenda mbinguni, kwa sababu naamini alitubu dhambi zake akisaidiwa na wachungaji. Wachungaji hao walimtembelea kila siku, nyumbani au hospitalini, akiwa kitandani kwake akiugua. Bibi yangu alitimiza wajibu wake. Alizaliwa, aliishi, na alikufa katika toba. Siku nitakapokufa ningependa kuzikwa jirani na alipozikwa bibi yangu, ili Yesu atakaporudi tufufuke pamoja.

The dead are immune from our prison of Time. The distance between the living and dead may be vast, but the space of Time the dead experience when they are reunited with their loved ones is only paper-thin.

We lose a significant portion of our lives attending ceremonies for people who have lost theirs.

This,” I said, “was not how it was supposed to be.” The short sentence bounced around the cave,coming back to me Word for Word. “I just want to be honest,”I said. “it seems silly to do anything else at this point. The truth is that we’re not supposed to be here, and we all know that. We’re not supposed to be inside of a church made by old – timey people. We weren’t supposed to bring Jonah here. We weren’t supposed to hide from an Italian park ranger on horseback.” I paused and waited for my echoing voice to quiet. “Also, Maybe this is obvious, but Jonah was not supposed to die. Not yet. None of it was supposed to happen like this. Grace eyed me quizzically. “I don’t mean to be bleak,” I continued “I know it sounds that way. What I mean is that nothing ever happens the way it supposed to. Everything is messed up. Everything is flawed. And if we didn’t have imperfection, I’m not sure what we would have left.” I looked out into the light outside. What I could see of the landscape one year and went to the camera but me. “The way I see it, we have a bunch of imperfect moments all lined up, one after the next, and we feel this strange, imperfect love. Then, before we know it, it’s all over. We give everything we have, but that can never be enough to make things just the way we want them, or to keep someone with us as long as we’d like. But the struggle is worth something. And the love is worth something even though it’s imperfect. And maybe we should try to celebrate this brief, incomplete thing we’ve been given. Maybe that’s all we can do when we find ourselves in the dark.” Everyone remained quiet. I couldn’t tell by looking at them how they felt about what I was saying. Still, no one interrupted me, so I kept going. “Just because something didn’t last as long as you needed doesn’t mean it wasn’t genuine. Jonah and I had an in perfect love. So what? That doesn’t cancel it. And it’s not gone. It’s still here. And, today, I just want to bring it back. I want to make it tangible again for a little while .

There will be grace and forgiveness enough, old dog, even for you. I pray you will spare me a drink from that cup, when it overflows for you. - Miles Vorkosigan

The world spins despite me, not because of me," he muttered. Last week, one of his coworkers died after twenty-five years of service. There was an email and eulogy sent by one of the managers - and then a mad scramble by everyone else to loot his office supplies.

They say to us that we must be concerned not merely about who murdered them, but about the system, the way of life, the philosophy which produced the murderer.

This here ol' man jus' lived a life an' jus' died out of it. I don't know whether he was good or bad, but that don't matter much. He was alive, an' that's what matters. An' now he's dead, an' that don't matter. Heard a fella tell a poem one time, an' he says, 'All that lives is holy.' Got to thinkin', an' purty soon it means more than the words says. An' I wouldn' pray for a ol' fella that's dead. He's awright. He got a job to do, but it's all laid out for 'im an' there's on'y one way to do it. But us, we got a job to do, an' they's a thousan' ways, an' we don' know which one to take. An' if I was to pray, it'd be for the folks that don't know which way to turn. Grandpa here, he got the easy straight. An' now cover 'im up and let 'im get to his work.

To hear how much of a great human being you were — even if you really weren’t — open your ears at your funeral.

Warm summer sun, shine brightly here, Warm Southern wind, blow softly here, Green sod above, lie light, lie light, Good night, dear heart; good night, good night.

We are surprised not by someone’s death but by its cause or date.

William Stoner entered the University of Missouri as a freshman in the year 1910, at the age of nineteen. Eight years later, during the height of World War I, he received his Doctor of Philosophy degree and accepted an instructorship at the same University, where he taught until his death in 1956. He did not rise above the rank of assistant professor, and few students remembered him with any sharpness after they had taken his courses. When he died his colleagues made a memorial contribution of a medieval manuscript to the University library. This manuscript may still be found in the Rare Books Collection, bearing the inscription: 'Presented to the Library of the University of Missouri, in memory of William Stoner, Department of English. By his colleagues.' An occasional student who comes upon the name may wonder idly who William Stoner was, but he seldom pursues his curiosity beyond a casual questions. Stoner's colleagues, who held him in no particular esteem when he was alive, speak of him rarely now; to the older ones, his name is a reminder of the end that awaits them all, and to the younger ones it is merely a sound which evokes no sense of the past and no identity with which they can associate themselves or their careers.

A funeral eulogy is a belated plea for the defense delivered after the evidence is all in.

A person's true wealth is the good he or she does in the world.

...what I'm saying isn't for him. If my words were for him they would be different; softer, and more meaningful. They would be whispered in his ear instead of projected to a crowd.

When I look up at Heaven, I see the souls of those who died Beaming down at me, Wanting to scream: “I'm still alive!”, Wishing to scribble across the sapphire sky - Letters to their loved ones, But a million dark oceans stand between us, Between those who passed and the living, Between those of us still stuck below, And those who have crossed over the threshold of time - Where what seems like eternity to us, Is really only a few minutes to them. So you see, there is no reason to weep over the shining ones - For even though the space that separates us is limitless, The wall of time that divides us is only paper-thin. And one day, we shall all reunite with them, When our souls are released like fish Back into the vast shimmering sea To shine together like Glittering diamonds.

And they die an equal death — the idler and the man of mighty deeds.

Cherish all your happy moments.

Eulogy. Praise of a person who has either the advantages of wealth and power, or the consideration to be dead.

Do not try to live forever. You will not succeed.

Eulogies never talk about what was on your resume. Be remembered for how you made people feel and your passions

Heaven lies about us in our infancy.

Have you noticed that when we die, our eulogies celebrate our lives very differently from the way society defines success?

Good listeners, like precious gems, are to be treasured.

How rare and wonderful is that flash of a moment when we realize we have discovered a friend.

He who enjoys doing and enjoys what he has done is happy.

I'm of an age when if I started to do eulogies, I'd be doing nothing else. You don't want to be remembered? I don't want them to be told to remember me.

Shakespeare has been praised in English more than anything mortal except poetry itself. Fame exhausts thought in his eulogy.

I think when I dropped The Eulogy is when it became more [about] feedback because that's when Pitchfork wanted to review it and things like that.

I walked a mile with Pleasure; She chattered all the way. But left me none the wiser For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow And ne'er a word said she; But oh, the things I learned from her When Sorrow walked with me!

Joy increases as you give it, and diminishes as you try to keep it for yourself.

Life and death are balanced as it were on the edge of a razor

Man should be judged by the deeds done to help his fellow man.

Never lose a chance of saying a kind word.

People say, "How would you like to be remembered?" I don't want to be remembered. Gimme a break. What I want is to hear what's great about me now. Let me hear it! In the box you don't hear these eulogies.

Services were held today for Ken Lay - convicted thief and crook Ken Lay.They folded his arms across his chest and sowed his sleeves together so he couldn't put his hands in anyone's pockets when they walked by. You know when they say in a eulogy, "You're all richer for having known him." I don't think they're going to hear that.

I wholeheartedly welcomed Charles de Gaulle eulogy of French valour, to which he attributed the liberation of Paris.

Joy increases as you give it, and diminishes as you try to keep it yourself. In giving it, you will accumulate a deposit of joy greater than you ever believed possible.

More people have a fear of speaking than a fear of death. So at a funeral, most people would want to be the person in the coffin rather than the person delivering the eulogy!