A Quote by Aung San Suu Kyi

To be forgotten, is to die a little. — © Aung San Suu Kyi
To be forgotten, is to die a little.
The French say that to part is to die a little. To be forgotten too is to die a little. It is to lose some of the links that anchor us to the rest of humanity.
To die completely, a person must not only forget but be forgotten, and he who is not forgotten is not dead.
There is little pride in writers. They know they are human and shall some day die and be forgotten. Knowing all this a writer is gentle and kindly where another man is severe and unkind.
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.
We each die countless little deaths on our way to the last. We die out of shame as humiliation. We perish from despair. And, of course, we die for love.
We 've wholly forgotten how to die. But be sure you do die nevertheless. Do your work, and finish it. If you know how to begin, you will know when to end.
After I die, I'll be forgotten.
Preach the gospel, die and be forgotten.
We live, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten.
When do you think people die? When they're shot through the heart with a pistol? ...No. When they have an uncurable disease? ...No. When they drink soup made from a poisonous mushroom? No! When they are forgotten! Even if I die, my dream will come true. The hearts of the people will be cured..!
Music is fragile: people die, and it's forgotten.
As Beckett said, it's not enough to die, one has to be forgotten as well.
Those who die without being forgotten get longevity.
Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten, Eternal Wisdom can never die.
I won because of the fact that people that are great, great American people have been forgotten. I call them the forgotten man and the forgotten woman. They've been forgotten.
If Under fell, if Over leaped, If death was life and Death life reaped, Something rises from the gloom, To make the Underland a tomb Hear it scratching down below, Rat of long forgotten snow, Evil cloaked in coat of White, Will the Warrior drain your light? What could turn the Warrior week? What do burning Gnawers seek? Just a barely speaking pup That holds the Land of Under up Die the baby, die his heart Die his most essential part Die the peace that rules the hour, Gnawers have their key to power
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