As there can be no illiterate sage, no ignorant Shakespeare, so history knows no selfish hero.

For the mercenary forehead memory has no wreath.

A sentinel with a flaming sword guards the threshold of the temple of fame against those aspirants named Ease, Avarice, Self-indulgence.
"Shall I be remembered by posterity ?" asked the dying Garfield.

In this eager, tremulous question the renowned and the obscure alike have a pathetic interest.

For the deeply reflective mind oblivion is a thought all unendurable.