A Quote by Al Jolson

After I die, I'll be forgotten. — © Al Jolson
After I die, I'll be forgotten.

Quote Topics

To die completely, a person must not only forget but be forgotten, and he who is not forgotten is not dead.
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.
What happens after you die? Lot's of things happen after you die - they just don't involve you
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.
No matter what we predict for our futures, we're always wrong anyway. The only sensible thing to do is to live this life as it is right now. Leave what happens after you die till after you die.
For all its material advantages, the sedentary life has left us edgy, unfulfilled, even after 400 generations in villages and cities, we haven't forgotten: The open road still softly calls like a nearly forgotten song of childhood.
Shortly after her nomination was announced,[Betsy] DeVos tweeted, almost as if she had forgotten something important to say. And she said, I am not a supporter of the Common Core. Sandy Kress predicts that debate will die down soon enough.
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.
What I fear is not being forgotten after my death, but, rather, not being enough forgotten. As we were saying, it is not our books that survive, but our poor lives that linger in the histories.
To be forgotten, is to die a little.
I mean, you know, actors lives - you're forgotten. Look at Barrymore, and look at all the great actors. They're forgotten after awhile.
We live, we die, we are remembered, we are forgotten.
Preach the gospel, die and be 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.
Goddesses never die. They slip in and out of the world's cities, in and out of our dreams, century after century, answering to different names, dressed differently, perhaps even disguised, perhaps idle and unemployed, their official altars abandoned, their temples feared or simply forgotten.
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