Quotes About Buried

When Victor Hugo was buried, you couldn't find a whore in all of Paris. They were too busy paying their respects. That was a man – and he still has a show on in the West End.

Lord, when my spirit shall return to thee, At the foot of a friendly tree let my body be buried, That this dust may rise and rejoice among the branches.

The symbolism within these feasts is made even richer by the fact that Jesus accomplished vital steps of His plan on top of each of them. He was crucified on Passover. He was buried on the Feast of Unleavened Bread. He rose from the dead on the Feast of Firstfruits. And He sent the Spirit on Pentecost.

But just because you bury something, that doesn't mean it stops existing. Those feelings, they'd been there all along. All that time. I had to face it.

To Love is to be God. Never will a Lover's chest feel any sorrow. Never will a Lover's robe be touched by mortals. Never will a Lover's body be found buried in the earth. To Love is to be God.

But it's there. Just because I haven't told anyone doesn't mean it isn't there, all the time, lurking in the back of my mind, like one those NSync songs you can't get out of your head.

That's the woman's soul. That's her inside." My friends regarded me questioningly. "It's what can't be buried," I explained wildly and vaguely. "It's what makes you laugh or cry and love people and hate people. It's—it's feeling and thinking and—it's what can't be put in the ground.

thought folk were buried there?" "They are! And their treasures! So the dragon guards the hoard. That's what dragons do. Bury gold and you hatch a dragon, see?

Step softly—a dream lies buried here.

THE ORDINARY RESPONSE TO ATROCITIES is to banish them from consciousness. Certain violations of the social compact are too terrible to utter aloud: this is the meaning of the word unspeakable. Atrocities, however, refuse to be buried.

Secrets are like plants. They can stay buried deep in the earth for a long time, but eventually they'll send up shoots and give themselves away. They have to. It's their nature. Just a tiny green stem at first. Which slowly, insidiously grows taller, stronger, unfolding itself, until there it is. A big fat secret, right in front of your face; a fully bloomed flower perfumed with the scent of deception.

With work and life, your true depth can become an alien thing to you. Your gut feelings, your instincts become buried.

Anger is needed to leave, to walk. That doesn't come from outside. In the hollow of the belly the pain of being here, the impossibility of remaining where you are, of being buried alive, of simply staying.

Mack drove over to Boot Hill, an old cemetery where they'd buried the second-place finishers in gunfights of yore.

The truth sometimes reminds me of a city buried in sand. As time passes, the sand piles up even thicker, and occasionally it's blown away and what's below is revealed.

And then it struck him what lay buried far down under the earth on which his feet were so firmly planted: the ominous rumbling of the deepest darkness, secret rivers that transported desire, slimy creatures writhing, the lair of earthquakes ready to transform whole cities into mounds of rubble. These, too, were helping to create the rhythm of the earth. He stopped dancing and, catching his breath, stared at the ground beneath his feet as though peering into a bottomless hole.

I buried a lot of my ironing in the back yard.

The more capable people are of inflicting pain, the deeper, more buried they are in illusion and fear.

Allí perduraba, oculto en lo invisible como el clavo en la madera, una parte de mi propio yo hace tiempo soterrada.

Truth is buried, deep inside of men, sweep away each day.

Truth gets buried, that's why people write autobiographies.

I know where the skeletons are buried because I was the one who buried them.

It had been one of the biggest landgrabs in the city's history and Bosch knew the story well, having tried all his life to counter his love of baseball and the Dodgers with the ugly story buried beneath the diamond where, as a boy, he watched Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale pitch. It seemed to him that every gleaming success in the city had a dark seam to it somewhere, usually just out of view.

The past had a way of coming back up out of the ground. Always right below your feet.