Since memories die with men, that's as near as one gets to immortality

δάκρυα μὲν Ἑκάβῃ τε καὶ Ἰλιάδεσσι γυναιξὶ
Μοῖραι ἐπέκλωσαν δὴ τότε γεινομέναις,
σοὶ δέ, Δίων, ῥέξαντι καλῶν ἐπινίκιον ἔργων
δαίμονες εὐροίας ἐλπίδας ἐξέχεαν.
κεῖσαι δ’ εὐρυχόρῳ ἐν πατρίδι τίμιος ἀστοῖς,
ὦ ἐμὸν ἐκμήνας θυμὸν ἔρωτι Δίων.

Tears for Hekabe and the women of Troy
the Fates spun out as soon as they were born,
but for you, Dion, composing success on success,
the gods poured out plentiful hopes.
Now you lie in the broad familiar earth, the honor of your countrymen—
but, oh, you maddened my heart with love, Dion.

—Plato for Dion, Palatine Anthology 7.99