When someone steals your goat, my son, it is roasted and eaten and you forget it. When someone steals your corn, it is ground into meal and eaten and you forget it. But when someone steals your land, it is always there and you can never forget it.
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Forget decorated generals, tell me about Private Ryan.
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Some books are undeservedly forgotten; none are undeservedly remembered.
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God will answer you prayers better than you think. Of course, one will not always get exactly what he has asked for.. We all have sorrows and disappointments, but one must never forget that, if commended to God, they will issue in good.. His own solution is far better than any we could conceive.
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We don't forget that we are Christians. We forget that we are human, and that one oversight alone can debilitate the potential of our future.
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There is no excuse for anyone to misunderstand God's Word if he will, like a child, accept the Bible for what it says, and be honest enough to consecrate himself to obey it. He must accept the Bible as God's Word. He must believe that God could not be honest if He sought to hide from man the very things He will judge him by in the end. He must accept the Bible as the final Court of Appeal on its own subjects, and forget man's interpretations and distortion of the Word. He must believe that God knows what He is talking about; that He knows how to express Himself in human language; that He said what He meant, and meant what He said; and that what He says on a subject is more important than what any man may say about it.
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Don't forget that we lawyers, we're a higher breed of intellect, and so it's our privilege to lie. It's as clear as day. Animals can't even imagine lying: if you were to find yourself among some wild islanders, they too would only speak the truth until they learned about European culture.
culture truth lies lying animals intellect day lawyers wild imagine find lie speak forget privilege learned
Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand, Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay. Remember me when no more day by dayYou tell me of our future that you planned: Only remember me; you understandIt will be late to counsel then or pray. Yet if you should forget me for a whileAnd afterward remember, do not grieve: For if the darkness and corruption leaveA vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smileThan that you should remember and be sad.
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Because everybody who has ever lost their way in life has felt the nagging insistence of that question. At some point we all look up and realize we are lost in a maze, and I dont want us to forget Alaska, and I don't want to forget that even when the material we study seems boring, we're trying to und3erstand how people answered that question and the question each of you posed in your papers--how different traditions have come to terms with what Chip, in his final, called 'people's rotten lots in life.
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Listen, children: Your father is dead. From his old coatsI'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousersFrom his old pants. There'll be in his pocketsThings he used to put there, Keys and penniesCovered with tobacco; Dan shall have the penniesTo save in his bank; Anne shall have the keysTo make a pretty noise with. Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.
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Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!
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Let us think of people as starting life with an experience they forget and ending it with one which they anticipate but cannot understand.
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Death's Diary: 1942 -It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to just name a few. Forget the scythe, God damn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a holiday.(..) They say that war is death's best friend, but I must offer you a different point of view on that one. To me, war is like the new boss who expects the impossible. He stands over your shoulder repeating one thing, incessantly. 'Get it done, get it done'. So you work harder. You get the job done. The boss however, does not thank you. He asks for more.
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I was waiting for the longest time, she said. I thought you forgot. It is hard to forget, I said, when there is such an empty space when you are gone.
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That is, Jack thought, the way of life. The horror changes us, because we can never forget. Cursed with memory. It starts when we're old enough to know what death is and realize that sooner or later we'll lose everyone we love. We're never the same. But somehow we're all right. We go on.
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Death! Strange that there should be such a word, and such a thing, and we ever forget it; that one should be living, warm and beautiful, full of hopes, desires and wants, one day, and the next be gone, utterly gone, and forever!
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And now -- now it only remains for me to light a cigarette and go home. Dear God, only now am I remembering that people die. Does that include me?Don't forget, in the meantime, that this is the season for strawberries. Yes.
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The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal - every other affliction to forget; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open - this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude. Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal, would accept of consolation that must be bought by forgetfulness? No, the love which survives the tomb is one of the noblest attributes of the soul. If it has its woes, it has likewise its delights; and when the overwhelming burst of grief is calmed into the gentle tear of recollection, when the sudden anguish and the convulsive agony over the present ruins of all that we most loved are softened away in pensive meditation on all that it was in the days of its loveliness - who would root out such a sorrow from the heart? Though it may sometimes throw a passing cloud over the bright hour of gaiety, or spread a deeper sadness over the hour of gloom, yet who would exchange it even for the song of pleasure, or the burst of revelry? No, there is a voice from the tomb sweeter than song. There is a remembrance of the dead to which we turn even from the charms of the living. Oh, the grave! The grave! It buries every error - covers every defect - extinguishes every resentment! From its peaceful bosom spring none but fond regrets and tender recollections.
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The awful thing is that if i can forget they're people, it will be no different at all
philosophy life people death philosophical forget thing
Come here, let me share a bit of wisdom with you. Have you given much thought to our mortal condition?Probably not. Why would you? Well, listen. There's no one alivewho can say if he will be tomorrow. Our fate moves invisibly! A mystery. No one can teach it, no one can grasp it. Accept this! Cheer up! Have a drink!But don't forget Aphrodite--that's You can let the rest go. Am I making sense?I think so. How about a drink. Put on a garland. I'm surethe happy splash of wine will cure your mood. We're all mortal you know. Think mortal. Because my theory is, there's no such thing as life.
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When along the pavement, Palpitating flames of life, People flicker around me,I forget my bereavement, The gap in the great constellation, The place where a star used to be
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Forget it. Never explain; never apologize. You can either write posthumously or you can't.
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For if the darkness and corruption leaveA vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smileThan that you should remember and be sad.
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We are biology. We are reminded of this at the beginning and the end, at birth and at death. In between we do what we can to forget.
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It was a year for the ages, like 79, like 1346, to name just a few. Forget the scythe, Goddamn it, I needed a broom or a mop. And I needed a vacation.
vacation death forget
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