A Quote by Alfred Armand Montapert
Move out man! Life is fleeting by. Do something worthwhile, berfore you die. Leave Behind a work sublime, that will outline you and time.
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Rest not Life is sweeping by go and dare before you die. Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to conquer time.
Rest not. Life is sweeping by; go and dare before you die. Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to conquer time.
When you die, Die on "E".... Leave no Dream behind... Leave NO Opportunity behind! Accomplish everything you can.
I like to leave things open to interpretation. But I also like to make a point. There's two meanings behind each EP title. With 'Time,' that was 'time to move on': you know, you've been in a bad situation; this is enough. But it was also time, in my life, for introducing myself, my first project I was putting out with Mustard. A new exciting time.
The trace I leave to me means at once my death, to come or already come, and the hope that it will survive me. It is not an ambition of immortality; it is fundamental. I leave here a bit of paper, I leave, I die; it is impossible to exit this structure; it is the unchanging form of my life. Every time I let something go, I live my death in writing.
I won't have any money to leave behind. I won't have the fine and luxurious things of life to leave behind. But I just want to leave a committed life behind.
One of the characteristics of North American culture is that you can always start again. You can always move forward, cross a border of a state or a city or a county, and move West, most of the time West. You leave behind guilt, past traditions, memories. You are as if born again, in the sense of the snake: You leave your skin behind and you begin again. For most people in the world, that is totally impossible.
The aim of every artist is to arrest motion, which is life, by artificial means and hold it fixed so that a hundred years later, when a stranger looks at it, it moves again since it is life. Since man is mortal, the only immortality possible for him is to leave something behind him that is immortal since it will always move. This is the artist's way of scribbling "Kilroy was here" on the wall of the final and irrevocable oblivion through which he must someday pass.
No man is born into the world whose work is not born with him. There is always work, and tools to work with, for those who will, and blessed are the horny hands of toil. The busy world shoves angrily aside the man who stands with arms akimbo until occasion tells him what to do; and he who waits to have his task marked out shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.
In some respects I will never die. Because art is immortal. What we leave behind and what we create - the energy that we put out into the world is eternal.
I have indeed lived and worked to my taste either in art or science. What more could a man desire? Knowledge has always been my goal. There is much that I shall leave behind undone...but something at least I was privileged to leave for the world to use, if it so intends...As the Latin poet said I will leave the table of the living like a guest who has eaten his fill. Yes, if I had another life to spend, I certainly would not waste it. But that cannot be, so why complain?
If we want the nation to move ahead, then we'll have to leave behind the thinking that Government will do everything...we all need to collectively devote to make our country move forward.
Love is something that you can leave behind you when you die. It's that powerful.
I don’t want my thoughts to die with me, I want to have done something. I’m not interested in power, or piles of money. I want to leave something behind. I want to make a positive contribution - know that my life has meaning.
The first thing you must learn is to always treat a man and a woman with total respect and honor, 'cause if you do that, the legacy you will leave behind will be work.
But that had been grief--this was joy. Yet that grief and this joy were alike outside all the ordinary conditions of life; they were loopholes, as it were, in that ordinary life through which there came glimpses of something sublime. And in the contemplation of this sublime something the soul was exalted to inconceivable heights of which it had before had no conception, while reason lagged behind, unable to keep up with it.
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