When I think of antiquity, the detail that frightens me is that those hundreds of millions of slaves on whose backs civilization rested generation after generation have left behind them no record whatever. We do not even know their names. In the whole of Greek and Roman history, how many slaves’ names are known to you? I can think of two, or possibly three. One is Spartacus and the other is Epictetus. Also, in the Roman room at the British Museum there is a glass jar with the maker’s name inscribed on the bottom, “Felix fecit.” I have a vivid mental picture of poor Felix (a Gaul with red hair and a metal collar round his neck), but in fact he may not have been a slave; so there are only two slaves whose names I definitely know, and probably few people can remember more. The rest have gone down into utter silence.
George Orwell (1903-1950) English journalist, essayist, writer [pseud. of Eric Arthur Blair]
Essay (1942-08), “Looking Back on the Spanish War, ch. 4, Such, Such Were the Joys, essay 8 (1953)
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Quotations about:
forgotten
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There are people who resemble popular songs: they are sung for a time and then forgotten.
[Il y a des gens qui ressemblent aux vaudevilles, qu’on ne chante qu’un certain temps.]
François VI, duc de La Rochefoucauld (1613-1680) French epigrammatist, memoirist, noble
Réflexions ou sentences et maximes morales [Reflections; or Sentences and Moral Maxims], ¶211 (1665-1678) [tr. FitzGibbon (1957)]
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The manuscripts of some early editions included a clause about those popular songs being distasteful (as seen in some of the translations below), but the phrase was not in the final (1678) edition:[Il y a des gens qui ressemblent aux vaudevilles, que tout le monde chante un certain temps, quelques fades et dégoûtants qu’ils soient.]
(Source (French)). Other translations:There are a sort of people may be compar'd to those trivial Songs, which all are in an humour to sing for a certain time, how flat and distasteful soever they may be.
[tr. Davies (1669), ¶64]Some Men are like Ballads, that every body Sings at one time or other, though they be never so dull and insipid.
[tr. Stanhope (1694), ¶212]There are people who, like new songs, are in vogue only for a time.
[pub. Donaldson (1783), ¶454; ed. Lepoittevin-Lacroix (1797), ¶202]There are those, who, like new songs, are favourites only for a time.
[ed. Carvill (1835), ¶491]Some people resemble ballads, which are only sung for a certain time.
[ed. Gowens (1851), ¶220]There are people who are like farces, which are praised but for a time (however foolish and distasteful they may be).
[tr. Bund/Friswell (1871), ¶211]Some people are like rag-time -- their popularity is short-lived.
[tr. Heard (1917), ¶216]Some people are like popular songs, which are sung only for a season.
[tr. Stevens (1939), ¶211]Some people are like a popular song, taken up only for a time.
[tr. Kronenberger (1959), ¶211]Some people are like popular songs that you only sing for a short time.
[tr. Tancock (1959), ¶211]There are people who resemble certain kinds of popular music, which are sung only for a certain time, however insipid and disgusting they may be, and then forgotten.
[tr. Whichello (2016) ¶211]
Soon you will have forgotten the world, and soon the world will have forgotten you.
[Ἐγγὺς μὲν ἡ σὴ περὶ πάντων λήθη, ἐγγὺς δὲ ἡ πάντων περὶ σοῦ λήθη.]
Marcus Aurelius (AD 121-180) Roman emperor (161-180), Stoic philosopher
Meditations [To Himself; Τὰ εἰς ἑαυτόν], Book 7, ch. 21 (7.21) (AD 161-180) [tr. Staniforth (1964)]
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(Source (Greek)). Alternate translations:The time when thou shalt have forgotten all things, is at hand. And that time also is at hand, when thou thyself shalt be forgotten by all.
[tr. Casaubon (1634), 7.16]'Twill not be long before you will have forgotten all the World; and in a little time, to be even, all the World will forget you too.
[tr. Collier (1701)]The time approaches when you shall forget all things, and be forgotten by all.
[tr. Hutcheson/Moor (1742)]The time is speedily approaching, when you will have forgotten every one, and every one will have forgotten you.
[tr. Graves (1792), 7.19]Near is thy forgetfulness of all things; and near the forgetfulness of thee by all.
[tr. Long (1862)]It will not be long before you will have forgotten all the world, and in a little time all the world will forget you too.
[tr. Collier/Zimmern (1887)]Soon you will have forgotten all; soon all will have forgotten you.
[tr. Rendall (1898)]The time is at hand when you shall forget all things, and when all shall forget you.
[tr. Hutcheson/Chrystal (1902)]A little while and thou wilt have forgotten everything, a little while and everything will have forgotten thee.
[tr. Haines (Loeb) (1916)]Near at hand is your forgetting all; near, too, all forgetting you.
[tr. Farquharson (1944)]Close is the time when you will forget all things; and close, too, thie time when all will forget you.
[tr. Hard (1997 ed.)]Close to forgetting it all, close to being forgotten.
[tr. Hays (2003)]Soon you will have forgotten all things: soon all things will have forgotten you.
[tr. Hammond (2006)]Close is the time when you will forget all things; and close, too, the time when all will forget you.
[tr. Hard (2011 ed.)]
Thare iz no man so necessary in this world, but that when he dies hiz plase iz quickly filled, and he iz soon forgotten.
[There is no man so necessary in this world, but that when he dies his place is quickly filled, and he is soon forgotten.]
One day Lara went out and did not come back. She must have been arrested in the street, as so often happened in those days, and she died or vanished somewhere, forgotten as a nameless number on a list which was afterwards mislaid, in one of the innumerable mixed or women’s concentration camps in the north.
Boris Pasternak (1890-1960) Russian poet, novelist, and literary translator
Doctor Zhivago [До́ктор Жива́го], Part 2, ch. 15 “Conclusion,” sec. 17 (1955) [tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), UK ed.]
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Alternate translations:One day Larisa Feodorovna went out and did not come back. She must have been arrested in the street at that time. She vanished without a trace and probably died somewhere, forgotten as a nameless number on a list that afterwards got mislaid, in one of the innumerable mixed or women's concentration camps in the north.
[tr. Hayward & Harari (1958), US ed.]One day Larissa Fyodorovna left the house and did not come back again. Evidently she was arrested on the street in those days and died or vanished no one knew where, forgotten under some nameless number on subsequently lost lists, in one of the countless general or women’s concentration camps in the north.
[tr. Pevear & Volokhonsky (2010)]YEVGAF: (voice-over) One day she went away and didn't come back. I tried to trace her; but I couldn't. She must have been arrested in the street, as so often happened in those days, and she died or vanished somewhere, forgotten as a nameless number on a list which was afterward mislaid, in one of the innumerable mixed or women's concentration camps in the north.
[tr. Bolt (1965), film]
Yes, he thought, between grief and nothing I will take grief.
William Faulkner (1897-1962) American novelist
The Wild Palms [If I Forget Thee, Jerusalem], ch. 9 (1939)
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There’s nothing like studying the bestseller lists of bygone years for teaching an author humility. You’ve heard of the ones that got filmed, normally. Mostly you realize that today’s bestsellers are tomorrow’s forgotten things.
Neil Gaiman (b. 1960) British author, screenwriter, fabulist
“This Much I Know,” The Guardian (2017-08-05)
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I suppose every old scholar has had the experience of reading something in a book which was significant to him, but which he could never find again. Sure he is that he read it there, but no one else ever read it, nor can he find it again, though he buy the book and ransack every page.
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) American essayist, lecturer, poet
Journal (1867-07-02, after)
I never complained that my birthday was overlooked; people were even surprised, with a touch of admiration, by my discretion on this subject. But the reason for my disinterestedness was even more discrete: I longed to be forgotten in order to be able to complain to myself.
Albert Camus (1913-1960) Algerian-French novelist, essayist, playwright
The Fall (1956)
ULYSSES: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devoured
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon
As done. Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honor bright. To have done is to hang
Quite out of fashion like a rusty mail
In monumental mock’ry.William Shakespeare (1564-1616) English dramatist and poet
Troilus and Cressida, Act 3, sc. 3, l. 153ff (3.3.153-158) (1602)
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But the iniquity of oblivion blindely scattereth her poppy, and deals with the memory of men without distinction to merit of perpetuity. […] Who knows whether the best of men be known? or whether there be not more remarkable persons forgot, then any that stand remembred in the known account of time?
Thomas Browne (1605-1682) English physician and author
Hydriotaphia, or Urne-Buriall, ch. 5 (1658)
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