This video is a tribute to Steve Jobs, remember his contribution to this world forever.
Senator Kennedy eulogizes Jacqueline
Prince Harry’s speech at Diana Thanksgiving Service on the 10th anniversary of her death.
Barack Obama addresses Kennedy family, friends during the funeral ceremony.
Obama recalled how Kennedy “became the greatest legislator of our time.”
“I knew him as a colleague, as a mentor, and above all, as a friend,” he said.
When the death of the King was announced to us yesterday morning there struck a deep and solemn note in our lives which, as it resounded far and wide, stilled the clatter and traffic of twentieth-century life in many lands, and made countless millions of human beings pause and look around them. A new sense of values took, for the time being, possession of human minds, and mortal existence presented itself to so many at the same moment in its serenity and in its sorrow, in its splendour and in its pain, in its fortitude and in its suffering.
The King was greatly loved by all his peoples. He was respected as a man and as a prince far beyond the many realms over which he reigned. The simple dignity of his life, his manly virtues, his sense of duty – alike as a ruler and a servant of the vast spheres and communities for which he bore responsibility – his gay charm and happy nature, his example as a husband and a father in his own family circle, his courage in peace or war – all these were aspects of his character which won the glint of admiration, now here, now there, from the innumerable eyes whose gaze falls upon the Throne.
We thought of him as a young naval lieutenant in the great Battle of Jutland. We thought of him when calmly, without ambition, or want of self-confidence, he assumed the heavy burden of the Crown and succeeded his brother whom he loved and to whom he had rendered perfect loyalty. We thought of him, so faithful in his study and discharge of State affairs; so strong in his devotion to the enduring honour of our country; so self-restrained in his judgments of men and affairs; so uplifted above the clash of party politics, yet so attentive to them; so wise and shrewd in judging between what matters and what does not.
All this we saw and admired. His conduct on the Throne may well be a model and a guide to constitutional sovereigns throughout the world today and also in future generations. The last few months of King George’s life, with all the pain and physical stresses that he endured – his life hanging by a thread from day to day, and he all the time cheerful and undaunted, stricken in body but quite undisturbed and even unaffected in spirit – these have made a profound and an enduring impression and should be a help to all.
He was sustained not only by his natural buoyancy, but by the sincerity of his Christian faith. During these last months the King walked with death as if death were a companion, an acquaintance whom he recognized and did not fear. In the end death came as a friend, and after a happy day of sunshine and sport, and after “good night” to those who loved him best, he fell asleep as every man or woman who strives to fear God and nothing else in the world may hope to do.
The nearer one stood to him the more these facts were apparent. But the newspapers and photographs of modern times have made vast numbers of his subjects able to watch with emotion the last months of his pilgrimage. We all saw him approach his journey’s end. In this period of mourning and meditation, amid our cares and toils, every home in all the realms joined together under the Crown may draw comfort for tonight and strength for the future from his bearing and his fortitude.
There was another tie between King George and his people. It was not only sorrow and affliction that they shared. Dear to the hearts and the homes of the people is the joy and pride of a united family. With this all the troubles of the world can be borne and all its ordeals at least confronted. No family in these tumultuous years was happier or loved one another more than the Royal Family around the King.
No Minister saw so much of the King during the war as I did. I made certain he was kept informed of every secret matter, and the care and thoroughness with which he mastered the immense daily flow of State papers made a deep mark on my mind.
Let me tell you another fact. On one of the days when Buckingham Palace was bombed the King had just returned from Windsor. One side of the courtyard was struck, and if the windows opposite out of which he and the Queen were looking had not been, by the mercy of God, open, they would both have been blinded by the broken glass instead of being only hurled back by the explosion. Amid all that was then going on, although I saw the King so often, I never heard of this episode till a long time after. Their Majesties never mentioned it or thought it of more significance than a soldier in their armies would of a shell bursting near him. This seems to me to be a revealing trait in the royal character.
There is no doubt that of all the institutions which have grown up among us over the centuries, or sprung into being in our lifetime, the constitutional monarchy is the most deeply founded and dearly cherished by the whole association of our peoples. In the present generation it has acquired a meaning incomparably more powerful than anyone had dreamed possible in former times. The Crown has become the mysterious link, indeed I may say the magic link, which unites our loosely bound, but strongly interwoven Commonwealth of nations, states, and races….
For fifteen years George VI was King. Never at any moment in all the perplexities at home and abroad, in public or in private, did he fail in his duties. Well does he deserve the farewell salute of all his governments and peoples.
It is at this time that our compassion and sympathy go out to his consort and widow. Their marriage was a love match with no idea of regal pomp or splendour. Indeed, there seemed to be before them only the arduous life of royal personages, denied so many of the activities of ordinary folk and having to give so much in ceremonial public service. May I say – speaking with all freedom – that our hearts go out tonight to that valiant woman, with famous blood of Scotland in her veins, who sustained King George through all his toils and problems, and brought up with their charm and beauty the two daughters who mourn their father today. May she be granted strength to bear her sorrow.
To Queen Mary, his mother, another of whose sons is dead – the Duke of Kent having been killed on active service – there belongs the consolation of seeing how well he did his duty and fulfilled her hopes, and of knowing how much he cared for her.
Now I must leave the treasures of the past and turn to the future. Famous have been the reigns of our queens. Some of the greatest periods in our history have unfolded under their sceptre. Now that we have the second Queen Elizabeth, also ascending the Throne in her twenty-sixth year, our thoughts are carried back nearly four hundred years to the magnificent figure who presided over and, in many ways, embodied and inspired the grandeur and genius of the Elizabethan age.
Queen Elizabeth II, like her predecessor, did not pass her childhood in any certain expectation of the Crown. But already we know her well, and we understand why her gifts, and those of her husband, the Duke of Edinburgh, have stirred the only part of the Commonwealth she has yet been able to visit. She has already been acclaimed as Queen of Canada.
We make our claim too, and others will come forward also, and tomorrow the proclamation of her sovereignty will command the loyalty of her native land and of all other parts of the British Commonwealth and Empire. I, whose youth was passed in the august, unchallenged and tranquil glories of the Victorian era, may well feel a thrill in invoking once more the prayer and the anthem, “God save the Queen!”
Rev Dr. Martin Luther King Funeral Eulogy by Robert F. Kennedy
“For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred … against all white people, I can only say that I feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed….
Martin Luther King, the American civil rights leader and winner of the Nobel Prize for Peace, was born in Montgomery, Alabama. He rose to prominence in the civil rights movement of the 1950s, led the famous March on Washington in 1963, and the March from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, in 1965. A brilliant orator and writer, whose insistence upon nonviolence in the Gandhian tradition accounted for the success of the movement, Dr. King was assassinated on April 4, 1968, in Memphis, Tennessee, by a white man.
On the day King was assassinated, Sen. Robert Kennedy was campaigning for the presidency in Indianapolis, Indiana. He was on his way to a campaign rally in a black section of the city when he heard that King had been killed. His aides strongly urged him not to go to the rally, that he would be endangering his life. But Kennedy insisted, and he stood upon the back of a flatbed truck and delivered the following extemporaneous eulogy. Less than two months later, Kennedy was assassinated in Los Angeles.
I have bad news for you, for all our fellow citizens, and people who love peace all over the world, and that is that Martin Luther King was shot and killed tonight.
Martin Luther King dedicated his life to love and to justice for his fellow human beings, and he died because of that effort.
In this difficult day, in this difficult time for the United States, it is perhaps well to ask what kind of a nation we are and what direction we want to move in. For those of you who are black – considering the evidence there evidently is that there were white people who were responsible – you can be filled with bitterness, with hatred, and desire for revenge. We can move in that direction as a country, in great polarization – black people amongst black, white people amongst white, filled with hatred toward one another.
Or we can make an effort, as Martin Luther King did, to understand and to comprehend, and to replace that violence, that stain of bloodshed that has spread across our land, with an effort to understand that compassion and love.
For those of you who are black and are tempted to be filled with hatred and distrust at the injustice of such an act, against all white people, I can only say that I feel in my own heart the same kind of feeling. I had a member of my family killed, but he was killed by a white man. But we have to make an effort in the United States, we have to make an effort to understand, to go beyond these rather difficult times.
My favorite poet was Aeschylus. He wrote: “In our sleep pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”
What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence or lawlessness, but love and wisdom and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of injustice towards those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or they be black…
We’ve had difficult times in the past. We will have difficult times in the future. It is not the end of violence; it is not the end of lawlessness; it is not the end of disorder.
But the vast majority of white people and the vast majority of black people in this country want to live together, want to improve the quality of our life, and want justice for all human beings who abide in our land. Let us dedicate ourselves to what the Greeks wrote so many years ago: to tame the savageness of man and to make gentle the life of this world.
Let us dedicate ourselves to that, and say a prayer for our country and for our people.
“But,” I said, “Maurice is already there.”
And Jackie answered: “Teddy, you do it. Maurice isn’t running for re-election.”
She was always there–for all our family–in her special way.
She was a blessing to us and to the nation-and a lesson to the world on how to do things right, how to be a mother, how to appreciate history, how to be courageous.
No one else looked like her, spoke like her, wrote like her, or was so original in the way she did things. No one we knew ever had a better sense of self.
Eight months before she married Jack, they went together to President Eisenhower’s Inaugural Ball. Jackie said later that that’s where they decided they liked Inaugurations.
Jackie brought the greatest artists to the white House, and brought the Arts to the center of national attention. Today, in large part because of her inspiration and vision, the arts are an abiding part of national policy.
President Kennedy took such delight in her brilliance and her spirit. At a white House dinner, he once leaned over and told the wife of the French Ambassador, “Jackie speaks fluent French. But I only understand one out of every five words she says–and that word is DeGaulle.”
And then, during those four endless days in 1963, she held us together as a family and a country. In large part because of her, we could grieve and then go on, She lifted us up, and in the doubt and darkness, she gave her fellow citizens back their pride as Americans. She was then 34 years old.
Afterward, as the eternal fame she lit flickered in the autumn of Arlington Cemetery, Jackie went on to do what she most wanted–to raise Caroline and John, and warm her family’s life and that of all the Kennedys.
Robert Kennedy sustained her, and she helped make it possible for Bobby to continue. She kept Jack’s memory alive, as he carried Jack’s mission on. Her two children turned out to be extraordinary, honest, unspoiled, and with a character equal to hers. And she did it in the most trying of circumstances. They are her two miracles.
Her love for Caroline and John was deep and unqualified. She reveled in their accomplishments, she hurt with their sorrows, and she felt sheer joy and delight in spending time with them. At the mere mention of one of their names, Jackie’s eyes would shine brighter and her smile would grow bigger.
She once said that if you “bungle raising your children nothing else much matters in life.” She didn’t bungle. Once again, she showed how to do the most important thing of all, and do it right.
When she went to work, Jackie became a respected professional in the world of publishing. And because of her, remarkable books came to life. She searched out new authors and ideas. She was interested in everything.
Her love of history became a devotion to historic preservation. You knew, when Jackie joined the cause to save a building in Manhattan, the bulldozers might as well turn around and go home.
She had a wonderful sense of humor–a way of focusing on someone with total attention–and a little girl delight in who they were and what they were saying. It was a gift of herself that she gave to others. And in spite of all her heartache and loss, she never faltered.
I often think of what she said about Jack in December after he died: “They made him a legend, when he would have preferred to be a man.’ Jackie would have preferred to be just herself, but the world insisted that she be a legend, too.
She never wanted public notice, in part I think, because it brought back painful memories of an unbearable sorrow, endured in the glare of a million lights.
In all the years since then, her genuineness and depth of character continued to shine through the privacy to reach people everywhere. Jackie was too young to be a widow in 1963, and too young to die now.
Her grandchildren were bringing new joy to her life, a joy that illuminated her face whenever you saw them together. Whether it was taking Rose and Tatiana for an ice cream cone, or taking a walk in Central Park with little Jack as she did last Sunday, she relished being Grand Jackie and showering her grandchildren with love.
At the end, she worried more about us tan herself. She let her family and friends know she was thinking of them. How cherished were those wonderful notes in her distinctive hand on her powder blue stationery!
In truth, she did everything she could–and more–for each of us.
She made a rare and noble contribution to the American spirit. But for us, most of all she was a magnificent wife, mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend.
She graced our history. And for those of us who knew and loved her–she graced our lives.
What was it about Anna Nicole Smith that captivated the people world over? There was a façade that she presented to the media – the Playboy centerfold, the actress, the girl who married a man old enough to be her grandfather, a silly girl that smiled for the paparazzis, put on her happy face and did everything over the top. Sometimes us humans put on a mask and present a happy face to the people around us. What made Anna Nicole Smith so different was that she sometimes fell apart and she did not care who saw it, she did things her way and in the end you have to admire her because that takes guts and courage.
She was also a loving mother that could not bear when her son died. And as for her gold digging ways, in her funeral arrangements she has specifically asked that her late husband’s ashes should be buried with her. What kind of a self-respecting gold digger does that?
But one thing that was true wherever Anna Nicole Smith went, the media followed. And that has continued even in the aftermath of her death. After weeks of family feuds and bitter court proceedings the court has finally ordered who has the right to her remains and where she should be put to rest. To finally rest in peace after years of living in the public eye. And even after her death for all intents and purposes she did things her way and although her funeral was a solemn affair, it was also in her favorite color – pink, so over the top yet so unquestionably her.
Howard K. Stern made a moving eulogy for Anna Nicole Smith, his friend and his lover. He lovingly described how he did know the truth about her and it was not what the media portrayed, but rather what Anna Nicole wanted them to see. He described her strength and her kindness and her love for her children. He described her spirit and her defiance, it takes a lot of chutzpah to hold your head high and endure the ridicule she encountered every day. But one thing she could not take was the loss of her son Daniel and in the end it lead to her premature death.
Howard K. Stern in his moving eulogy made a promise and vow to protect her daughter until the day he dies. And as the bitter feuds between family and friends, workers and confidants continue, while the tabloids still have Anna Nicole’s face splashed on their front pages every day, while the rest of muse over the fact can money really buy you happiness, Anna Nicole Smith has finally got what she wanted – she is resting peacefully next to her son.
Mrs. Kennedy, Kara, Edward, Patrick, Curran, Caroline, members of the Kennedy family, distinguished guests, and fellow citizens:
Today we say goodbye to the youngest child of Rose and Joseph Kennedy. The world will long remember their son Edward as the heir to a weighty legacy; a champion for those who had none; the soul of the Democratic Party; and the lion of the U.S. Senate – a man whose name graces nearly one thousand laws, and who penned more than three hundred himself.
But those of us who loved him, and ache with his passing, know Ted Kennedy by the other titles he held: Father. Brother. Husband. Uncle Teddy, or as he was often known to his younger nieces and nephews, “The Grand Fromage,” or “The Big Cheese.” I, like so many others in the city where he worked for nearly half a century, knew him as a colleague, a mentor, and above all, a friend.
Ted Kennedy was the baby of the family who became its patriarch; the restless dreamer who became its rock. He was the sunny, joyful child, who bore the brunt of his brothers’ teasing, but learned quickly how to brush it off. When they tossed him off a boat because he didn’t know what a jib was, six-year-old Teddy got back in and learned to sail. When a photographer asked the newly-elected Bobby to step back at a press conference because he was casting a shadow on his younger brother, Teddy quipped, “It’ll be the same in Washington.”
This spirit of resilience and good humor would see Ted Kennedy through more pain and tragedy than most of us will ever know. He lost two siblings by the age of sixteen. He saw two more taken violently from the country that loved them. He said goodbye to his beloved sister, Eunice, in the final days of his own life. He narrowly survived a plane crash, watched two children struggle with cancer, buried three nephews, and experienced personal failings and setbacks in the most public way possible.
It is a string of events that would have broken a lesser man. And it would have been easy for Teddy to let himself become bitter and hardened; to surrender to self-pity and regret; to retreat from public life and live out his years in peaceful quiet. No one would have blamed him for that.
But that was not Ted Kennedy. As he told us, “…[I]ndividual faults and frailties are no excuse to give in – and no exemption from the common obligation to give of ourselves.” Indeed, Ted was the “Happy Warrior” that the poet William Wordsworth spoke of when he wrote:
As tempted more; more able to endure,
As more exposed to suffering and distress;
Thence, also, more alive to tenderness.
Through his own suffering, Ted Kennedy became more alive to the plight and suffering of others – the sick child who could not see a doctor; the young soldier sent to battle without armor; the citizen denied her rights because of what she looks like or who she loves or where she comes from. The landmark laws that he championed — the Civil Rights Act, the Americans with Disabilities Act, immigration reform, children’s health care, the Family and Medical Leave Act -all have a running thread. Ted Kennedy’s life’s work was not to champion those with wealth or power or special connections. It was to give a voice to those who were not heard; to add a rung to the ladder of opportunity; to make real the dream of our founding. He was given the gift of time that his brothers were not, and he used that gift to touch as many lives and right as many wrongs as the years would allow.
We can still hear his voice bellowing through the Senate chamber, face reddened, fist pounding the podium, a veritable force of nature, in support of health care or workers’ rights or civil rights. And yet, while his causes became deeply personal, his disagreements never did. While he was seen by his fiercest critics as a partisan lightning rod, that is not the prism through which Ted Kennedy saw the world, nor was it the prism through which his colleagues saw him. He was a product of an age when the joy and nobility of politics prevented differences of party and philosophy from becoming barriers to cooperation and mutual respect – a time when adversaries still saw each other as patriots.
And that’s how Ted Kennedy became the greatest legislator of our time. He did it by hewing to principle, but also by seeking compromise and common cause – not through deal-making and horse-trading alone, but through friendship, and kindness, and humor. There was the time he courted Orrin Hatch‘s support for the Children’s Health Insurance Program by having his Chief of Staff serenade the Senator with a song Orrin had written himself; the time he delivered shamrock cookies on a china plate to sweeten up a crusty Republican colleague; and the famous story of how he won the support of a Texas Committee Chairman on an immigration bill. Teddy walked into a meeting with a plain manila envelope, and showed only the Chairman that it was filled with the Texan’s favorite cigars. When the negotiations were going well, he would inch the envelope closer to the Chairman. When they weren’t, he would pull it back. Before long, the deal was done.
It was only a few years ago, on St. Patrick’s Day, when Teddy buttonholed me on the floor of the Senate for my support on a certain piece of legislation that was coming up for vote. I gave him my pledge, but expressed my skepticism that it would pass. But when the roll call was over, the bill garnered the votes it needed, and then some. I looked at Teddy with astonishment and asked how he had pulled it off. He just patted me on the back, and said “Luck of the Irish!”
Of course, luck had little to do with Ted Kennedy’s legislative success, and he knew that. A few years ago, his father-in-law told him that he and Daniel Webster just might be the two greatest senators of all time. Without missing a beat, Teddy replied, “What did Webster do?”
But though it is Ted Kennedy’s historic body of achievements we will remember, it is his giving heart that we will miss. It was the friend and colleague who was always the first to pick up the phone and say, “I’m sorry for your loss,” or “I hope you feel better,” or “What can I do to help?” It was the boss who was so adored by his staff that over five hundred spanning five decades showed up for his 75th birthday party. It was the man who sent birthday wishes and thank you notes and even his own paintings to so many who never imagined that a U.S. Senator would take the time to think about someone like them. I have one of those paintings in my private study – a Cape Cod seascape that was a gift to a freshman legislator who happened to admire it when Ted Kennedy welcomed him into his office the first week he arrived in Washington; by the way, that’s my second favorite gift from Teddy and Vicki after our dog Bo. And it seems like everyone has one of those stories – the ones that often start with “You wouldn’t believe who called me today.”
Ted Kennedy was the father who looked after not only his own three children, but John’s and Bobby’s as well. He took them camping and taught them to sail. He laughed and danced with them at birthdays and weddings; cried and mourned with them through hardship and tragedy; and passed on that same sense of service and selflessness that his parents had instilled in him. Shortly after Ted walked Caroline down the aisle and gave her away at the altar, he received a note from Jackie that read, “On you the carefree youngest brother fell a burden a hero would have begged to be spared. We are all going to make it because you were always there with your love.”
Not only did the Kennedy family make it because of Ted’s love – he made it because of theirs; and especially because of the love and the life he found in Vicki. After so much loss and so much sorrow, it could not have been easy for Ted Kennedy to risk his heart again. That he did is a testament to how deeply he loved this remarkable woman from Louisiana. And she didn’t just love him back. As Ted would often acknowledge, Vicki saved him. She gave him strength and purpose; joy and friendship; and stood by him always, especially in those last, hardest days.
We cannot know for certain how long we have here. We cannot foresee the trials or misfortunes that will test us along the way. We cannot know God’s plan for us.
What we can do is to live out our lives as best we can with purpose, and love, and joy. We can use each day to show those who are closest to us how much we care about them, and treat others with the kindness and respect that we wish for ourselves. We can learn from our mistakes and grow from our failures. And we can strive at all costs to make a better world, so that someday, if we are blessed with the chance to look back on our time here, we can know that we spent it well; that we made a difference; that our fleeting presence had a lasting impact on the lives of other human beings.
This is how Ted Kennedy lived. This is his legacy. He once said of his brother Bobby that he need not be idealized or enlarged in death beyond what he was in life, and I imagine he would say the same about himself. The greatest expectations were placed upon Ted Kennedy’s shoulders because of who he was, but he surpassed them all because of who he became. We do not weep for him today because of the prestige attached to his name or his office. We weep because we loved this kind and tender hero who persevered through pain and tragedy – not for the sake of ambition or vanity; not for wealth or power; but only for the people and the country he loved.
In the days after September 11th, Teddy made it a point to personally call each one of the 177 families of this state who lost a loved one in the attack. But he didn’t stop there. He kept calling and checking up on them. He fought through red tape to get them assistance and grief counseling. He invited them sailing, played with their children, and would write each family a letter whenever the anniversary of that terrible day came along. To one widow, he wrote the following:
“As you know so well, the passage of time never really heals the tragic memory of such a great loss, but we carry on, because we have to, because our loved one would want us to, and because there is still light to guide us in the world from the love they gave us.”
We carry on.
Ted Kennedy has gone home now, guided by his faith and by the light of those he has loved and lost. At last he is with them once more, leaving those of us who grieve his passing with the memories he gave, the good he did, the dream he kept alive, and a single, enduring image – the image of a man on a boat; white mane tousled; smiling broadly as he sails into the wind, ready for what storms may come, carrying on toward some new and wondrous place just beyond the horizon. May God Bless Ted Kennedy, and may he rest in eternal peace.
An excerpted version:
I’m going to say some stories. Maybe some of them you know; maybe some of them you don’t. I wrote ’em down because I didn’t want to miss anything.
The song “I Will Always Love You” almost wasn’t. It wasn’t supposed to be in the movie. The first choice was going to be “What Becomes of a Broken Heart.” But it had been out the year before and in another movie, and we felt that it wouldn’t have the same impact and so we couldn’t use it.
So what becomes of our broken hearts?
Whitney returns home today, to the place where it all began, and I urge us all, inside and outside, across the nation and around the world, to dry our tears, suspend our sorrow, and perhaps our anger, just long enough, just long enough to remember the sweet miracle of Whitney.
Never forgetting that Cissy and Bobbi Kristina sit among us. Your mother and I had a lot in common.
I know many at this moment are thinking, “Really?” [ Laughter from the audience. ] “She’s a girl, you’re a boy. You’re white, she’s black. But our sister could really sing. So what am I talking about? Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, they don’t have anything in common at all.” Well, you’d be wrong about that.
We both grew up in the Baptist church. It wasn’t as big as this. My grandmother played the piano, and she led the choir and her two daughters. My mother and my aunt both sang in it . . .
I can see her in my own mind running around here as a skinny little girl, knowing everyone, everyone’s business, knowing every inch of this place. I can also see her in trouble, too, trying to use that beautiful smile, trying to talk her way out of it, and Cissy not having any of it . . .
At the height of her fame as a singer, I asked her to be my co-star in a movie called “The Bodyguard.” I thought she was the perfect choice, but the red flags came out immediately. Maybe I should think this over a bit! [ Laughs. ]
I was reminded that this would be her first acting role. We could also think about another singer was a suggestion. Maybe somebody white. Nobody ever said it out loud, but it was a fair question. It was. There would be a lot riding on this. Maybe a more experienced actress was the way to go. It was clear I really had to think about this.
I told everyone that I had taken notice that Whitney was black. The only problem was I thought she was perfect for what we were trying to do . . .
The Whitney I knew, despite her success and worldwide fame, still wondered: Am I good enough? Am I pretty enough? Will they like me?
It was the burden that made her great . . .
Whitney if you could hear me now I would tell you, you weren’t just good enough — you were great. You sang the whole damn song without a band. You made the picture what it was.
A lot of leading men could have played my part, a lot of guys could have filled that role, but you, Whitney, I truly believed that you were the only one who that could have played Rachel Marin at that time. [ Applause. ]
You weren’t just pretty — you were as beautiful as a woman could be. And people didn’t just like you, Whitney — they loved you.
I was your pretend bodyguard once not so long ago, and now you’re gone too soon, leaving us with memories of a little girl who stepped bravely in front of this church, in front of the ones that loved you first, in front of the ones that loved you best and loved you the longest.
Then, boldly, you stepped into the white-hot light of the world stage, and what you did is the rarest of achievements. You set the bar so high that professional singers, your own colleagues, they don’t want to sing that little country song — what would be the point?
Now the only ones who sing your songs are young girls like you who are dreaming of being you some day.
And so to you, Bobbi Kristina, and to all those young girls who are dreaming that dream and maybe thinking they aren’t good enough, I think Whitney would tell you: Guard your bodies, and guard the precious miracle of your own life, and then sing your hearts out — knowing that there’s a lady in heaven who is making God Himself wonder how he created something so perfect.
So off you go, Whitney, off you go . . . escorted by an army of angels to your Heavenly Father. And when you sing before Him, don’t you worry — you’ll be good enough.
In searching the web, I found these famous last words. I cannot verify their accuracy but I thought my readers would enjoy learning more about what these famous people supposedly said. These last words contain a lot of hidden meaning and magic to drive us towards living a more inspired life.
Check out what a few of these famous people said below:
~ Archimedes of Syracuse (298-212 B.C.)
“Wait ’till I have finished my problem!”
~ Becket, Thomas (1118-1170)
“For the name of Jesus and the protection of the church I am ready to embrace death.”
~ Beethoven, Ludwig van (1770-1827)
“Friends applaud, the comedy is over.”
~ Bell, Alexander Graham (1847-1922)
~ Bernstein, Leonard (1918-1990)
~ Billy the Kid (alias – William Bonney; real name – Henry McCarty) (1859-1881)
“Who is it?”
~ Bronte, Emily (1818-1848)
“I lingered around them, under that benign sky; watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells; listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass; and wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth.”
~ Burbank, Luther (1849-1926)
“I don’t feel good.”
~ Caesar, Julius Gaius (100-44 B.C.)
“You too, Brutus?”
~ Cassanova (de Seingalt), Giacomo (1725-1798)
“I have lived as a philosopher and die as a Christian.”
~ Chaplin, Charles (1889-1977)
“Why not? After all, it belongs to him.”
~ Charles I, King of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1600-1649)
“Stay for the sign.”
~ Charles II, King of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1630-1685)
“I have been a most unconscionable time dying, but I beg you to excuse it.”
~ Chekhov, Anton (1860-1904)
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had champagne.”
~ Cobain, Kurt (1967-1994)
“Frances and Courtney, I’ll be at your altar
Please keep going Courtney,
for her life will be so much happier
without me. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU” (from Kurt Cobain’s suicide note)
~ Crane, Hart (1899-1932)
~ Cranmer, Thomas, Archbishop of Canterbury (1489-1556)
“I see Heaven open and Jesus on the right hand of God.”
~ Cromwell, Oliver (1599-1658)
“My design is to make what haste I can to be gone.”
~ Crowley, Francis “Two Gun” (1900-1931)
“You sons of bitches. Give my love to Mother.”
~ Czolgosz, Leon (1873-1902)
“I killed the President because he was the enemy of the good people, the good working people. I am not sorry for my crime.”
~ D’Annunzo, Gabriele (1863-1938)
“I’m bored. I’m bored.”
~ Darwin, Charles (1809-1882)
“I am not the least afraid to die.”
~ Dean, James (1931-1955)
“That guy’s got to stop. . . . He’ll see us.”
~ Diana (Spencer), Princess of Wales (1961-1997)
“My God. What’s happened?”
~ Dickinson, Emily (1830-1886)
“. . . the fog is rising”
~ Dreiser, Theodore (1871-1945)
“Shakespeare, I come.”
~ Duncan, Angela “Isadora” (1878-1927)
“Farewell, my friends. I go to glory.”
~ Earhart, Amelia (1897-1937)
“KHAQQ calling Itasca. We must be on you, but cannot see you. Gas is running low.”
~ Eastman, George (1854-1932)
“My work is done, why wait?”
~ Edison, Thomas A. (1847-1931)
“It’s very beautiful over there.”
~ Eisenhower, Dwight D. (1890-1969)
“I’ve always loved my wife, my children, and my grandchildren, and I’ve always loved my country. I want to go. God, take me”
~ Elizabeth I, Queen of England (1533-1603)
“All my possessions for a moment of time.”