Albert Brooks Quotes

I know if I were to drop dead now, people would probably write nice things in the obit.

Fame - a few words upon a tombstone, and the truth of those not to be depended on.

The only 'afterlife' is what other people remember of you.

I am not concerned about my posthumous fame. Monuments are no good to the dead.

I want to be remembered.

When the 'Guardian' is commissioning writers to write obituary pieces about you and your career... it doesn't get much nastier than that. And you've just got to go, 'It doesn't actually matter.'

When I vacate this sack of old bones I won't care what you do with it. Bury or burn it but don't make much fuss.

It's not whether you win or lose, it's how many people remember you when you die.

Posthumous reputations have little to do with real lives.

It's funny the way most people love the dead. Once you are dead, you are made for life.

Glory paid to our ashes comes too late.

After I die, I'll be forgotten.

In these days a man is nobody unless his biography is kept so far posted up that it may be ready for the national breakfast-table on the morning after his demise.

It's funny how most people love the dead, once you're dead, you're made for life.

I always felt that one needs to be remembered long after one has gone.

Everyone dies, and I am not, you know, I don't believe in the Homeric idea that, you know, immortality comes by, you know, having odes sung about you over the centuries, you know?

I would just like to be remembered.

Death is dreadful to the man whose all is extinguished with his life; but not to him whose glory never can die.

To be rich, to be famous? do these profit a year hence, when other names sound louder than yours, when you lie hidden away under ground, along with the idle titles engraven on your coffin? But only true love lives after you, follows your memory with secret blessings or pervades you, and intercedes for you. Non omnis moriar, if, dying, I yet live in a tender heart or two; nor am lost and hopeless, living, if a sainted departed soul still loves and prays for me.

"When the dead are done with the living, the living can go on to other things," Franny said. "What about the dead?" I asked. "Where do we go?"

So when I'm killed, don't wait for me, Walking the dim corridor; In Heaven or Hell, don't wait for me, Or you must wait for evermore. You'll find me buried, living-dead In these verses that you've read.

Posthumous fame is a plant of tardy growth, for our body must be the seed of it; or we may liken it to a torch, which nothing but the last spark of life can light up; or we may compare it to the trumpet of the archangel, for it is blown over the dead; but unlike that awful blast, it is of earth, not of heaven, and can neither rouse nor raise us.

Fame is but an inscription on a grave, and glory the melancholy blazon on a coffin lid.

Nothing is stronger than the position of the dead among the living.