Quotes About Funeral

I don't want to spend a fortune on my cremation urn, but I really do want to look nice at my memorial service.

If you have read many adventure novels, you'll know that spies spend about half of their time in the sewers. They run along sewer tunnels, shooting. They find secret hideaways in sewers. They take weird funeral barges through sewers, poled along by old men in hoods. In fact, if a spy's kid wants to get a message to their mom or dad, the easiest way to do it is just to flush it down the toilet.

In our day, death was preferable. But my father was a practical man. My wight in gold was less than the expense of the lavish funeral my death would have demanded.

They filed in, dressed for the day in short-sleeve shirts and cotton dresses. As they took their seats, a bailiff handed each a funeral fan—a decorative piece of cardboard glued to a stick—as if flapping it back and forth in front of their noses would bring relief from the stifling heat. Many of the spectators were already waving them.

funeral services took place with the casket open, so that the mourners were required to view the deceased while great things were said about him. It was an odd custom, one aimed at making the moment far more dramatic than necessary.

He lived forty-four years and no one cried at his funeral.

I think now that is the nature of hymns-they make us want to repeat them...they are a part of any service, and often the only part of a funeral service, that makes us feel everything is acceptable.

The girl looked too frightened to speak. Then she said: "I know you have to give my mother the flag—at the funeral. I know what my mother's gonna do—when you give her the flag. She said she's gonna spit on you," the pregnant sister told Owen. "And I know her—she will!" the girl said. "She'll spit in your face!" "IT HAPPENS, SOMETIMES," Owen said.

I could not escape a feeling that this was my own funeral, and you do not cry in that case.

I did not cry then or ever about Finney. I did not cry even when I stood watching him being lowered into his family's straightlaced burial ground outside of Boston. I could not escape a feeling that this was my own funeral, and you do not cry in that case.

Donohue's family operated a funeral home: "We had caskets stacked up outside the funeral home. We had to have guards kept on them because people were stealing the caskets. . . . You'd equate that to grave robbing." There were soon no caskets left to steal. Louise Apuchase remembered most vividly the lack of coffins: "A neighbor boy about seven or eight died and they used to just pick you up and wrap you up in a sheet and put you in a patrol wagon.

In our day, death was preferable. But my father was a practical man. My weight in gold was less than the expense of the lavish funeral my death would have demanded.

His protestations went unheeded, for they were gathered to attend a funeral and one was expected to say the right things.

The funeral. The one with presidents and ministers and secretaries of this or that, representing these or those, all decked out and solemn in black and respect. It was the biggest funeral ever, somebody had said. Everyone who was anyone, everywhere that was anywhere, had somebody, a Somebody, in attendance. Nobody wanted to miss the funeral.

I wanted to be at my sister's funeral, but my family has always had a complicated dynamic.

Surveys show that the #1 fear of Americans is public speaking. #2 is death. That means that at a funeral, the average American would rather be in the casket than doing the eulogy.

As a neighboring funeral terrifies sick misers, and fear obliges them to have some regard for themselves; so, the disgrace of others will often deter tender minds from vice.

When I die I'm sure I will have a Big Funeral. Curiosity seekers... coming to see if I am really Dead or just trying to make Trouble.

If any of you cry at my funeral I'll never speak to you again.

According to most studies, people's number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.

If you want to see what your friends and family think of you, die broke, and see who comes to your funeral.

During the funeral, I realized that I couldn't stop sighing. I later read that sighing is one way we process grief. It is a physiological response to distress.

I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.

How come we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? It is because we are not the person involved.