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The world has lost an amazing man. A man that cared, and loved and gave everything he had for others.
--
David Blaine, on his Twitter page (26 June 2009)

 

Michael Jackson

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Of all the emperors, one there was whom I recall from boyhood — bold in war, a lawgiver, far-famed in word and deed; he cared much for his country, but cared not for the true faith, and loved a host of gods. False to the Lord, although true to the world.

 

Julian (Emperor)

 

You gave your body to the lonely,
They took your clothes.
You gave up a wife and a family
You gave your ghost.
To be alone with me.
To be alone with me
You went up on a tree.
I've never met a man who loved me.

 

Sufjan Stevens

 

We never really cared about all the things that other people cared about, you know? Like, people recognizing me on the street never interested me. I've always been kind of suspicious of the world, anyway, so it's pretty easy for me to live in my own little world.

 

Meg White

 

Life is not lost by dying! Life is lost
Minute by minute, day by dragging day,
In all the thousand, small, uncaring ways,
The smooth appeasing compromises of time,
Which are King Herod and King Herod's men,
Always and always. Life can be
Lost without vision but not lost by death,
Lost by not caring, willing, going on
Beyond the ragged edge of fortitude
To something more — something no man has ever seen.
You who love money, you who love yourself,
You who love bitterness, and I who loved
and lost and thought I could not love again,
And all the people of this little town,
Rise up! The loves we had were not enough.
Something is loosed to change the shaken world,
And with it we must change!

 

Stephen Vincent Benet

 

You see, if I could believe that I shall see and touch him again, I shall not have lost him. And if I have not lost him, I shall never have had a son. Because I am I through bereavement and because of it. I do not know what I was nor what I shall be. But because of death, I know that I am. And that is all the immortality of which intellect is capable and flesh should desire. Anything else is for peasants, clods, who could never have loved a son well enough to have lost him.

 

William Faulkner