Miguel de Cervantes Quotes

There is no recollection which time does not put an end to, and no pain which death does not remove.

We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.

We all go to our grave thinking that we will never be forgotten, and we are forgotten ten minutes later.

There is something miraculous in the way the years wash away your evidence, first you, then your friends and family, then the descendants who remember your face, until you aren’t even a memory, you’re only carbon, no greater than your atoms, and time will divide them as well.

And though I remember her name I cannot recall her face. All things pass.

To be forgotten, is to die a little.

As Beckett said, it's not enough to die, one has to be forgotten as well.

And we forget because we must and not because we will.

When I die, and people realize that I will not be resurrected in three days, they will forget me. That is the way it should be.

After I die, I'll be forgotten.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

People will forget me pretty quick.

History can just be so unkind as time passes.

Someday no one will remember that she ever existed, I wrote in my notebook, and then, or that I did. Because memories fall apart, too. And then you're left with nothing, left not even with a ghost but with its shadow. In the beginning, she had haunted me, haunted my dreams, but even now, just weeks later, she was slipping away, falling apart in my memory and everyone else's, dying again.

It is the lot of man to suffer; it is also his fortune to forget. Oblivion and sorrow share our being, as darkness and light divide the course of time.

He is dead who called me into being, and when I shall be no more the very remembrance of us both will speedily vanish.

Man passes away; his name perishes from record and recollection; his history is as a tale that is told, and his very monument becomes a ruin.

We're not really afraid to die. We're only afraid of being forgotten. We know that we'll be forgotten, and the idea is unbearable, don't you agree? As time passes we become infrequent visitors in the minds of those left behind. The ones who clear out the house & divide up the belongings. Throw away the rubbish. And forget. If we knew that every evening someone lit a candle and sat down to think – thought about is if only for a few seconds – then we could depart this earth in peace. No-one will light a candle for me. Who would do that?

Some day soon, perhaps in forty years, there will be no one alive who has ever known me. That's when I will be truly dead - when I exist in no one's memory. I thought a lot about how someone very old is the last living individual to have known some person or cluster of people. When that person dies, the whole cluster dies,too, vanishes from the living memory. I wonder who that person will be for me. Whose death will make me truly dead?

They would grow old. They would forget me.

Time erases both the best and the worst of us.

Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.

Everything is ephemeral, both that which remembers and that which is remembered.

I realized people would soon forget me once I was dead. I couldn't even say that this was hard to stomach; really, there's no idea to which one doesn't get acclimatized in time.