Burial Site Quotes

The rain increases and umbrellas sprout like mushrooms amongst the graves.

His mouth had been used as a latrine by some small creature of the night, and then as its mausoleum.

There where hundreds of graves. There where hundreds of women. There were hundreds of daughters. There were hundreds of sons. And hundreds upon hundreds upon thousands of candles. The whole graveyard was one swarm of candleshine as if a population of fireflies had heard of a Grand Conglomeration and had flown here to settle in and flame upon the stones and light the brown faces and the dark eyes and the black hair.

I want a state funeral with bells ringing across the land! Then I'd love the congregation to do the hokey cokey and for can-can girls to dance down the aisle. I've already bought the plot in Worcestershire next to my parents.

I would've asked him to bring a shovel and come to help me dig a body up. That was what a boyfriend should do, right?" -Sookie Stackhouse

Yesterday in Egypt, archaeologists discovered the burial site for the 50 children of Ramses II...Fifty children! What I want to know is, who decided to name a condom after this guy?

I can't do that. I'm already the single guy living in his parents' house. I can't be seen digging a grave in the middle of the night.

Both Jewish and Roman sources and traditions admit an empty tomb.

I visit English country churchyards where historical figures are buried.

The Westwood Cemetery is just a few blocks from my home, and a number of my very dear friends are buried there.

I didn't want to see them lower him into the ground in the spot he'd picked out with his dad, and I didn't want to see his parents sink to their knees in the dew-wet grass and moan in pain.

Yes, Dan'l Webster's dead - or, at least, they buried him. But every time there's a thunderstorm around Marshfield, they say you can hear his rolling voice in the hollows of the sky.

My lands are where my dead lie buried.

In the end maybe what marriage offered was the determination of one's burial site.

A grave, on which to rest from singing?

There wasn't a funeral per se. I buried [Gilda Radner] 3 miles from her house that she had bought just shortly before we met. It was an old house, old colonial house, 1734. And there were just a few friends at the funeral, a nonsectarian cemetery. And an old friend of hers from junior high school or high school was the rabbi in town, and he performed the service.

I haven't really thought about where to scatter my ashes when the time comes, but I doubt that it would be in space.

Disinterring famous people has become a kind of sport in the Hispanic world. Before Cervantes, it happened to Evita, Che Guevara, Federico Garcia Lorca, and Pablo Neruda.

A library is but the soul's burying ground. It is a land of shadows.

While researching the book, I used the Freedom of Information Act to request what the military calls Individual Deceased Personnel Files for all the Gremlin Special's passengers and crew.

As we cleared the passage we found mixed with the rubble broken potsherds, jar seals, and numerous fragments of small objects; water skins lying on the floor together with alabaster jars, whole and broken, and coloured pottery vases; all pertaining to some disturbed burial, but telling us nothing to whom they belonged further than by their type which was of the late XVIIIth Dyn. These were disturbing elements as they pointed towards plundering.