Krist Novoselic Quotes

I know a lot of people who are not here anymore, and I wonder why I'm still here... Not a day goes by that I don't think about Sam Cooke. His presence is so strong and so convincing to me, a true artist, a true talent, who never talked down to people.

Sharing tales of those we've lost is how we keep from really losing them.

In fact, with Michael Jackson, I think those mourning people... They aren't even waking Michael, they're waking the Michael Jackson of '84. They never were given a chance to give their respects to the death of the guy they loved back in '84.

Just because someone's dead doesn't mean it's over. My grandfather died more than 25 years ago, but I still think of him a lot and smell his smell.

I'll never forget the first time I saw someone who had died. It was my grandfather. And I knelt next to his coffin. And all I could do was eye level was look at his hands. They were enormous hands. And all I could think was, 'Those hands dug freedom for me.'

Now more than ever, I have learned that, when people die, they truly do live throughout those who love them.

Dead people don't really die. They live on within you.

I don't think about Yauch in the form of his death. I think about him in the form of his life. He was like my closest older brother. There's just so much that we lived through together.

I'm 78. We've lost a lot of our great stars. I can't hang out with those who aren't here. The phone service to Heaven is so bad, you know. But I get to visit with their memories.

When I hear or see his name, I see the Glen I've always known. There will never, ever be another Glen Campbell.

My father's music is all I remember from my childhood.

My brother is in me. When we remember somebody else, in a certain way they are still alive. I see my brother - he is still young - looking to the Dolomites where we did our ascents. I remember those moments, so he is still together with me.

I can feel his presence here in every stone he has touched, every person he has lifted up, every street and alley and city that he has changed in the few years of his life, because he is the Republic, he is our light, and I love you, I love you, until the day we meet again I will hold you in my heart and protect you there, grieving what we never had, cherishing what we did. I wish you were here. I love you, always.

People leave strange little memories of themselves behind when they die.

The dead sit at our tables long after they have gone.

Tell me the truth about death. I don't know what it is. We have them, then they are gone but they stay in our minds. Their stories are part of us as long as we live and as long as we tell them or write them down.

How can the dead be truly dead when they still live in the souls of those who are left behind?

Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed; And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, Love itself shall slumber on.

In death, lie. In living, cry. Carry me home to remember to be remembered.

As long as we remember a person, they're not really gone. Their thoughts, their feelings, their memories, they become a part of us.

We have to remember everything. If we don't, by the time we grow up it'll be gone forever.

Tell me about your family," I said. And so she did. I listened intently as my mother went through each branch of the tree. Years later, after the funeral, Maria had asked me questions about the family - who was related to whom - and I struggled. I couldn't remember. A big chunk of our history had been buried with my mother. You should never let your past disappear that way.

A remembrance can mean nothing to the one remembered; it can only remind the ones left behind how little they did while you were still alive.

Steve Sanders lives on in our hearts and in our minds.