Remembrance Day Quotes

Valor is a gift. Those having it never know for sure whether they have it until the test comes.

The living owe it to those who no longer can speak to tell their story for them.

Grief starts to become indulgent, and it doesn't serve anyone, and it's painful. But if you transform it into remembrance, then you're magnifying the person you lost and also giving something of that person to other people, so they can experience something of that person.

Praising what is lost makes the remembrance dear

Four things support the world: the learning of the wise, the justice of the great, the prayers of the good, and the valor of the brave

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun and in the morning we will remember them.

And they who for their country die shall fill an honored grave, for glory lights the soldier's tomb, and beauty weeps the brave.

Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance.

Valor is a gift. Those having it never know for sure whether they have it till the test comes. And those having it in one test never know for sure if they will have it when the next test comes.

We thought: we're poor, we have nothing, but when we started losing one after the other so each day became remembrance day, we started composing poems about God's great generosity and our former riches.

Our cheer goes back to them, the valiant dead! Laurels and roses on their graves to-day, lilies and laurels over them we lay, and violets o'er each unforgotten head.

One lives in the hope of becoming a memory.

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.

In my dreams I hear again the crash of guns, the rattle of musketry, the strange, mournful mutter of the battlefield.

Valor is stability, not of legs and arms, but of courage and the soul.

When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep?

Lord, bid war's trumpet cease; Fold the whole earth in peace.

We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.

Courage is almost a contradiction in terms. It means a strong desire to live taking the form of readiness to die.

The most persistent sound which reverberates through man's history is the beating of war drums.

The legacy of heroes is the memory of a great name and the inheritance of a great example.

A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.

In the beginning of a change the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.

It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.

How important it is for us to recognize and celebrate our heroes and she-roes!

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.

I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask: "Mother, what was war?"

But the freedom that they fought for, and the country grand they wrought for, Is their monument to-day, and for aye.

A man's country is not a certain area of land, of mountains, rivers, and woods, but it is a principle and patriotism is loyalty to that principle.

All we have of freedom All we use or know This our fathers bought for us Long and long ago

This nation will remain the land of the free only so long as it is the home of the brave.

Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from falling hands we throw.

The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below

In Flanders fields the poppies blow.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place, and in the sky, The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard among the guns below.

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, Loved and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders fields.