A Quote by Phan Thi Kim Phuc

I wished I died in that attack with my cousin, with my south Vietnamese soldiers. I wish I died at that time so I won't suffer like that anymore... it was so hard for me to carry all that burden with that hatred, with that anger and bitterness.
I remember that, before John Lennon died, everyone was saying that Rolling Stone couldn't do good reporting anymore. But when he died, they wrote this amazing issue, as they should have about Lennon. They did that when Elvis died, too.
My cousin Jerry Lucey and five other firefighters died in a warehouse fire in Worcester, Mass. - my hometown - right in the middle of our old neighborhood downtown when a homeless couple started a fire to keep warm and the entire building went up. My cousin died trying to save homeless people who had already left the building.
On Good Friday Jesus died But rose again at Eastertide.....Lord, teach us to understand that your Son died to save us not from suffering but from ourselves, not from injustice...but from being unjust. He died that we might live - but live as he lives, by dying as he died who died to himself.
I always wished I had died, and I still wish that, because I could have gotten the whole thing over with.
My parents hated me. All I ever heard was, "Why can't you be like your cousin Shelia? Why can't you be like your cousin Shelia?" Shelia had died at birth.
My dad died, and my grandfather died, and my great-grandfather died. And the guy before him, I don't know. Probably died.
There was a day when I died; died to self, my opinions, preferences, tastes and will; died to the world, its approval or censure; died to the approval or blame even of my brethren or friends; and since then I have studied only to show myself approved unto God.
Anger is not bitterness. Bitterness can go on eating at a man's heart and mind forever. Anger spends itself in its own time.
He [President Franklin D. Roosevelt] died in harness, and we may well say in battle harness, like his soldiers, sailors and airmen who died side by side with ours and carrying out their tasks to the end all over the world. What an enviable death was his.
At some level it's still hard for me to admit that my father died. I can talk about it and around it, but those two words. 'He died.' What can that possibly mean? That I won't get to hear his voice again?
When Savage died, that was hard on me. I didn't even hardly know Randy, but I just turned 51 this past December, and he was 58 when he died. I'm like, 'Hey man, just because I'm in that line of work, do I have an expiration date? Am I supposed to go?' I always wonder, but I don't harbor it.
Only look to Jesus. He died for you, died in your place, died under the frowns of heaven, that we might die under its smile.
In that time and by God's will there died my mother, who was a great hindrance unto me in following the way of God; my husband died likewise, and in a short time there also died all my children. And because I had commenced to follow the aforesaid way and had prayed God that He would rid me of them, I had great consolation of their deaths, albeit I did also feel some grief.
When he was young, he had thought love had something to do with understanding, but with age he knew that no human being understood another. Love was the wish to understand, and presently with constant failure the wish died, and love died too perhaps or changed into this painful affection, loyalty, pity.
Most of those who died did not die of hunger but of hatred. Feeling hatred diminishes you. It eats at your from within and attacks the immune system. When you have hatred inside you, it always crushes you in the end.
Three thousand people died at ground zero. Their families are entitled to a little bit of respect, to respect the memory of those poor people that died there. And how about the families of all those soldiers that died in the two ensuing wars? Aren't they entitled to a little bit of respect - the kids, the wives, the parents?
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