Quotes About Coffin

I love a cardboard coffin. Both Mummy and Daddy went off in cardboard coffins, painted - Daddy's was rifle green. Beautifully made.

she was the victim of circumstances, and had no choice about becoming a vampire, once the cat had jumped over her coffin. Still, Jurgen always felt, in his illogical masculine way, that her vocation was not nice.

Usually he went stark naked to experience the full effects of the sensory elements within the Coffin.

It was to be a long, newsy letter, effective in spelling and conveying inexplicitly in its latter pages an explicit injunction from his mother to come home at once. The fact that Francis Crawford's mother had made no such request and before she did so would bleed in her coffin like pie-meat was a matter of minor importance.

horses which drew the hearse, and far more ineffectual. Every open grave I had to stand beside was a gateway to knowledge which nobody other than I appeared to realise was there to be tapped. As mourners dropped earth on the coffin it sounded very much like knocking on a door, and I imagined how terrified the priest and his little congregation would be if any opened in the earth.

And no one was left to walk behind that coffin but three old women who quietly, timidly, beneath the black veils covering their transitory old faces, mourned the end of a lineage and the inevitability of extinction.

Hello, sir. Yes...Uh-huh...Yes...You say that you want to bury your aunt with a Christmas tree in her coffin? Uh-huh...She wanted it that way...I'll see what I can do for you, sir. Oh, you have the measurements of the coffin with you? Very good...We have our coffin-sized Christmas trees right over here, sir.

By now it was nearly noon and I was hungry, so we made a quick run to Mr. Burger, a tiny carryout place a mile down the road, and wolfed down lunch standing outside the cemetery shop. We positioned ourselves upwind from the coffin, but occasionally the wind would shift and the aroma of burgers would mingle with the aroma of the Bopper.

A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin.

So what did you do, drug me, stuff me in the trunk, then dump me like a sacrificial offering into that vampire's coffin? - Shella

The face of the dead man was concealed, of course, our customs not being those of the south, where corpses are carried to the grave in open coffins, that they might – one last time before slipping into the pit – be warmed by the light of the sun.

i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my uncle Sol and started a worm farm)

And then there was that feeling one gets in a ride to a cemetery trailing a body in a coffin-an impatience with the dead, a longing to be back home where one could get on with the illusion that not death but daily life is the permanent condition.

Hush! or you'll wake her. Softly tread! She slumbers in her little bed. What do I see? A coffin! Dead? Yes, dead at break of morning.

Archie was talking. Nothing will stop Archie talking, not even death probably, he will rumble on from the inside of his large coffin until the worms get fed up with the noise and eat his tongue –

It was as if the coffin was a toboggan. A coffin toboggan. A coffboggan.

Hey." He glanced away from her, instead looking down at the coffin. He looked back at her and raised his eyebrows. "Want a peek?

SARCOPHAGUS, n. Among the Greeks a coffin which being made of a certain kind of carnivorous stone, had the peculiar property of devouring the body placed in it.

Suddenly it seems memory is impossible. Who can say what fills the coffin of the moment? Are we, then, like moths at a candle, glowing longer than life is left in us? I don't know how much longer it is possible to stay in a poem like this one, sifting through the ashes of the future. —Richard Jackson, from "Possibility," Heartwall (University of Massachuetts Press, 2000)

Tom is trying to tag a banshee? By himself? Go for it, coffin bait.

J'ai médité la mort. Je me suis imaginé n'existant pas, gardant le regret de n'exister pas, emportant dans mon cercueil le souvenir de la vie, comme une bague reste au doigt d'un cadavre.

For pity's sake, you are lying in a coffin, Mrs. Crofton. Unless you wish to be buried, I strongly suggest that you resurrect yourself immediately.

Coffin,why no lid? Too antiseptic for Hell, and could the roof of heaven really be made of gray metal?

The body of a sensualist is the coffin of a dead soul.