The memory of most men is an abandoned cemetery where lie, unsung and unhonored, the dead whom they have ceased to cherish. Any lasting grief is reproof to their neglect.
Marguerite YourcenarAbout author
- Author's profession: Novelist
- Nationality: american
- Born: June 7, 1903
- Died: December 17, 1987
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and you invented meand I invented youand that's why we don'tget alongon this bedany longer. you were the world'sgreatest inventionuntil youflushed meaway. now it's your turnto wait for the touchof the handle. somebody will do itto you, bitch, and if they don'tyou will - mixed with your owngreen or yellow or whiteor blueor lavendergoodbye.
Charles Bukowski
And do you know, I came with horror to the conclusion that, if anything could dissipate my love for humanity, it would be ingratitude. In short, I am a hired servant, I expect my payment at once--that is, praise, and the repayment of love with love. Otherwise I am incapable of loving anyone.
Fyodor Dostoevsky