A Quote by Henry David Thoreau

When a man dies he kicks the dust. — © Henry David Thoreau
When a man dies he kicks the dust.
Gather out of star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And splinters of hail, One handful of dream-dust, Not for sale.
Marketing and press kicks up dust. It gets in your eye, and then you’re not focusing on the product.
Marketing and press kicks up dust. It gets in your eye, and then you're not focusing on the product.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
Every time a man dies, a child dies too, and an adolescent and a young man as well; everyone weeps for the one who was dear to him.
Beckham takes free kicks better than me. It is a joy to watch him take free kicks and he has proved that free kicks are not all about power.
Sometimes I am God, if I say a man dies, he dies that same day.
When a man dies, he does not just die of the disease he has: he dies of his whole life.
I am not talking about what every one of us means by love. Little namby-pamby love is lovely. Man rails in love with woman, and woman goes to die for man. The chances are that in five minutes John kicks Jane, and Jane kicks John. This is a materialism and no love at all. If John could really love Jane, he would be perfect that moment.
The man who dies rich, dies disgraced.
The man who dies rich, dies in disgrace.
Buffett, when he gave away his money, referenced Carnegie. He quoted from Carnegie. When he said, "The man who dies rich dies disgraced," in the 1880s, his fellow millionaires looked on him like he was a lunatic, you know, an idiot, a mad man.
A man dies when he refuses to stand up for that which is right. A man dies when he refuses to stand up for justice. A man dies when he refuses to take a stand for that which is true.
What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.
A man who lives unrelated to other human beings dies. But a man who lives unrelated to himself also dies.
I drive a car till it turns to dust, then I sweep up the dust and ride on the dust.
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