Oh may I join the choir invisible / Of those immortal dead who live again / In minds made better by their presence.

O may I join the choir invisible
Of those immortal dead who live again
In minds made better by their presence; live
In pulses stirred to generosity,
In deeds of daring rectitude...

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

What do we live for, if not to make life less difficult for each other?

Much smoking kills live men and cures dead swine.

Those who live, live off the dead.