Quotes About Coffin

So there I was, feeling like the luckiest girl on earth. To be buried alive in such a majestic coffin! MAJOR life goal achieved!!!!

Although it had been announced that the coffin would not be opened, it was, at Mrs. Cody's order. For two hours the crowd filed by, two abreast, parents holding their children shoulder high. The ceremonies were in the charge of Golden City Lodge No. 1, Ancient Free and Accepted Masons, acting for the North Platte lodge of which Cody had been a member. The Masonic burial ritual was read, as was an original poem dedicated to the scout by A. F. Beeler.

The coffin, it shall protect me, though Death himself lies in it

And from the coffin of your madness there is no escape.

My own funeral, I'd like to be laid out in a coffin in my own house. I would like my coffin to be put in the double parlor, and I would like all the flowers to be white.

Heresy is the eternal dawn, the morning star, the glittering herald of the day. Heresy is the last and best thought. It is the perpetual New World, the unknown sea, toward which the brave all sail. It is the eternal horizon of progress. Heresy extends the hospitalities of the brain to a new thought. Heresy is a cradle; orthodoxy, a coffin.

Van Helsing more than sensed the coming alive of the undead creature trapped inside the icy coffin. He saw it now. Seeping from a bad seal between compartments, a wisp of fucking smoke.

Since I was dead — or worse than dead, buried alive in a body that might as well be a coffin except it denied me the pleasure of suffocation — I figured I should be allowed to grieve.

It's daylight. Shouldn't you have burned to a crisp, or something? Don't you have to crawl into a coffin? Where do you keep it stashed, anyway? I've never owned a coffin, he admitted, unable to hold back a smile.

We are America. We are the coffin fillers. We are the grocers of death. We pack them in crates like cauliflowers. The bomb opens like a shoebox. And the child? The child is certainly not yawning. And the woman? The woman is bathing her heart. It has been torn out of her and as a last act she is rinsing it off in the river. This is the death market. America, where are your credentials?

I wanted to make a human monster. His name is Coffin Baby. The idea is based on a group of people from Pasadena whose names I can't mention. His mother died and during the funeral, this baby came out of her in the coffin.

But where did I come into the dream?" I asked. "You-- you were in the coffin; but you were not dead." "In the coffin?" "Yes." "How did you know ? Could you see me?" "No; I only knew you were there." "Had you been eating Welsh rarebits, or lobster salad?" I began laughing, but the girl interrupted me with a frightened cry.

she clutched her purse and was completely composed, gracefully accepting people's sympathies, but when they started to shovel the dirt over old dick's coffin she began to weep, and her grief was strong enough to chase the sparrows from the trees.

Alexander had died in 323 B.C. His embalmed body in its gold and crystal coffin was the new city's most sacred relic.

A minha própria loucura refugiada dentro dela mesma, como num ataúde, a loucura dos outros que julgam ver aqui um autêntico ataúde, por consequência um ataúde que se pode transportar, abrir, destruir, trocar por qualquer outro.

Ling, my soul you sting, in pain I sing, my coffin you bring.

Some revelations came only with the sound of dirt falling on a coffin; the ones that mattered, the ones that made for regrets.

Grief broke down in phrases And extrapolated lines From me without myself Tear-stained pillow of stone I felt I was lying Beside him in the coffin Wormy mother Who takes us into the ground With her whenever and wherever She wants the grass glistens And grows over us in the heat Of late summer in the country

If I let a blue mood run rampant, before I know it I'm obsessing about the color of the satin lining in my coffin - will it match my dress? That's when I feel like Alice in Cancerland falling down the rabbit hole and just have to stop.

I went through a living room crowded with overstuffed furniture in a green-and-white jungle design from which eyes seemed to watch me, down a short hallway past a pink satin bedroom which reminded me of the inside of a coffin in disarray, to the open door of a bathroom. Tom's jacket lay across the threshold like the headless torso of a man, flattened by the passage of some enormous engine.

After the service was over, I whispered to one of my fellow staff members, If I commit suicide, I'll tattoo a message on my body. People will read the message on my body, if my dead body alone is not communication enough. I will make my message clear. Well, he shrugged, they could always just close the lid of the coffin.

The sky was growing dangerously light when I left Lestat and made my way to the secret place, below an abandoned building where I kept the iron coffin in which I lie. This is no unusual configuration among our kind-the sad old building, my title to it, or the cellar room cut off from the world above by iron doors no mortal could independently seek to lift.

the shutting of the coffin is always disturbing. It is rather like going under a modern anesthetic on an operating table. Even a casual mistake on the part of an intruder might mean death.

And you did get into the coffin?" "I had no choice. I begged Lestat to let me stay in the closet, but he laughed, astonished. 'Don't you know what you are?' he asked.