Mike Greenberg Quotes

Nothing endears so much a friend as sorrow for his death. The pleasure of his company has not so powerful an influence.

One of my favorites is one called 'Rory's Radio' that I wrote about my brother Jeff's best friend growing up - his name was Rory Dunigan. I dedicated my first record to my brother, who got killed in a car accident in 1999, and I really didn't have any songs on the first album about him, nothing on a personal note.

Every year I do a song for my homeboy Valley, who passed away from a heart attack.

Mourn for me rather as living than as dead.

I lost my brother in a car wreck when I was 14 years old. When I decided I wanted to be a country singer, my dad always told me, 'Son, you should write a song about your brother.'

Irrespective of age, we mourn for those loved and lost. Mourning is one of the deepest expressions of pure love.

'Lauder' is a favorite because the name of the song is a friend of mine who passed away.

The loss of my father will always sting. But now, everything that I do is in honor of him and celebrates his life.

Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.

With the tears a Land hath shed. Their graves should ever be green.

Words do not pay for my dead people.

Eulogy is nice, but one does not learn anything from it.

A friend who dies, it's something of you who dies.

I touched Roger's bat and held it to my heart. My bat will lie next to his. I'm damn proud of that.

I have my name Cory on my left arm, and I have my mom's name on my right with a cross. She passed away while I was still in high school, so I got that on my right arm.

There's going to be a picture of 'Mama' on my obit.

The day Guy Clark passed away was the day we wrote 'Girl Goin' Nowhere.' It was the first day I had met Jeremy Bussey, who I wrote the song with.

The passing of my accountant, Mary Coleman, who was the first person I shouted out on 'In Memory of...' was particularly devastating for me. She was beyond my accountant. She was my mother away from home.

I swear to keep the dead upon my mind, / Disdain for all time to be overglad.

To us who remain behind is left this day of memories. Every year--in the full tide of spring, at the height of the symphony of flowers and love and life--there comes a pause, and through the silence we hear the lonely pipe of death.

Even the death of Friends will inspire us as much as their lives. They will leave consolation to the mourners, as the rich leave money to defray the expenses of their funerals, and their memories will be incrusted over with sublime and pleasing thoughts, as monuments of other men are overgrown with moss; for our Friends have no place in the graveyard.

One last toast, to our friend, Owen Hart. We'll never forget you, buddy.

Requiescat Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life’s buried here, Heap earth upon it.

To those who are here, those who are gone, and those who are lost.