He who has gone, so we but cherish his memory, abides with us, more potent, nay, more present than the living man.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
How little remains of the man I once was, save the memory of him! But remembering is only a new form of suffering.
Man is the only creature we know, that, when the term of his natural life is ended, leaves the memory of himself behind him.
Man is remembered by his deeds.
He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.
Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us, footprints on the sands of time.
A great man is one who leaves others at a loss after he is gone.
The old man, of whom we know how he has become what he is, is more of an individual than the young man; for it is only in the course of an eventful life that men are differentiated into full individuality.
Life has obliged him to remember so much useful knowledge that he has lost not only his history, but his whole original cargo of useless knowledge; history, languages, literatures, the higher mathematics, or what you will - are all gone.
Cut off from his religious, metaphysical and transcendental roots, man is lost; all his actions become senseless, absurd, useless.
In his state of complete powerlessness the individual perceives the time he has left to live as a brief reprieve.