Joy increases as you give it, and diminishes as you try to keep it for yourself.
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.
Abraham Lincoln and Everett Dirksen understood with singular clarity that a great and diverse people do not speak with a single voice and that adherence to a rigid ideology leaves little room for compromise and response to change.
My praise is perhaps an unforgivable poison.
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.
I would like to do my own eulogy, and then shoot myself and then get in the coffin.
It's funny the way most people love the dead. Once you are dead, you are made for life.
Pass this bill as the memorial to our late beloved President.
The Civil Rights Bill of 1964
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate to hearse when Lycid lies.
It's really easy, once somebody passes away, for the tales about them to become taller, the good ones and the bad ones.
The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.
I don't think most people know what's going to be in their obituary, but I do.
'Lauder' is a favorite because the name of the song is a friend of mine who passed away.
They say such nice things about people at their funerals that it makes me sad that I'm going to miss mine by just a few days.
It's funny how most people love the dead, once you're dead, you're made for life.
They only name things after you when you're dead or really old.
I love to honour people and to write positive songs about them.
The obituaries shot up to the top of my list when I discovered Robert McG. Thomas, the 'Times' obit writer who redesigned its traditional form and added a measure of stylistic elegance.
Mourn for me rather as living than as dead.
No memorial oration or eulogy could more eloquently honor President Kennedy’s memory than the earliest possible passage of the civil rights bill for which he fought so long.
Life, in my estimation, is a biological misadventure that we terminate on the shoulders of six strange men whose only objective is to make a hole in one with you.
Done to death by slanderous tongue
The literature of many lands is rich with the tributes that gratitude, admiration and love have paid to the great and honored dead. These tributes disclose the character of nations, the ideals of the human race.
Mr. Bernard died on a Monday, at the age of seventy-five, his body wasted. He lay in state for two days in the lobby of the Bernard Gursky Tower and, as he failed to rise on the third, he was duly buried.
Satire lies about literary men while they live and eulogy lies about them when they die.
