Quotes About Buried

Como botones de nácar que estuvieran cosidos por debajo, quizás hasta dentro de la tierra.

In the darkness, everything is different. The air feels thick. My skin itches. I close my eyes, but that just plunges me deeper into nothingness. It's like being out in space, drifting, without even the comfort of stars. It's like being buried in the earth, buried in my past, buried and trying to dig my way out.

brutally, like men who think they have to deal with a swindler or a madman — it depends on their nature. I have been buried under the dead; but now I am buried under the living, under papers, under facts, under the whole of society, which wants to shove me underground again!

You don't realize how much effort you've put into covering things up until you try to dig them out.

I was ripe ten years ago. Now I'm merely preserved, and before long I'll be buried back in the orchard with the other pits." -Amanda to Jack

But that was in the days when they expected perils to come from without, and nothing made less sense by that time than a survival room buried in a house itself becoming one big coffin.

In the Orthodox Church, we don't go for partial immersion; no sprinkling, no forehead dabbing for us. In order to be reborn, you have to be buried first, so under the water I went.

I learned to stuff my fears deep down until they form a little ball, keeping the feelings buried under liberal handfuls of cheese and glasses of moderately priced Chardonnay.

buried by random events, ruined by confusion and grief.

If our subconscious was attractive, we wouldn't have to bury it down deep within us.

Now and then a visitor wept, to be sure; but this slaughtering machine went on, visitors or no visitors. It was like some horrible crime committed in a dungeon, all unseen and unheeded, buried out of sight and of memory.

They belonged to a generation that was yearning, every last one of them, to return home. To be buried under their own vine and fig tree, they liked to say.

I'm a buried kind of beautiful.Bring a shovel and a shooting starI may be a night's work.

I was glad Nutkin was a red squirrel, because I wouldn't have liked for Greta and me to have to hoe up our yards, looking for buried acorns. We would have done it, though. We would have done anything for Nutkin. She was the cutest baby animal I ever saw, and both of us had fallen in love with her.

A Christian is one who has been "crucified with Christ," who has died with Him, been buried with Him, risen with Him, ascended with Him, and is seated "in heavenly places" with Him (Rom 6:3-8; Gal 2:20; Eph 2:5-6; Col 3:1-3).

Robert, my closest brother, had died in prison—the story she heard was that he'd had a complication from some medications and had a heart attack. The coldest part is that he'd been dead and buried for two months—nobody besides my daughter had thought to tell me about it! Again, that's how death comes to you in prison.

This dread is lousy. When it hits, it's like someone has turned the dial that controls gravity. Everything sinks hard and cold and fast/ It winds you. It's that same feeling, that same sad panic you confront when you can't sleep, when your mind wanders and you remind yourself, for no reason at all, that you're going to die one day. That you will end, you will be buried and forgotten. And everything and everyone you know and remember and love will be void.

My lands are where my dead lie buried.

Southwestern Pennsylvania is home to the National Cemetery for the Alleghenies, and we already have local schools signed up and ready to research every veteran that is buried there.

Certainly the Australians were buried in Korea. But I think that from Vietnam on, all the killed were brought home to America or to Australia, in our case.

Kev loved her. Not in the way that novelists and poets described. Nothing so tame. He loved her beyond earth, heaven, or hell. Every moment out of her company was agony; every moment with her was the only peace he had ever known. Every touch of her hands left an imprint that ate down to his soul. He would have killed himself before admitting it to anyone. The truth was buried deep in his heart.

Because if the Texan hadn't been mistaken (or lying), and Jake had been convicted of the murder—and sentenced to hang for it—her dreams of a future with him would remain just that. And the mere thought of losing him, even for a reason like that, woke an ache inside her that she'd thought long buried, a pain as cutting and as deep as Mary's death had caused.

We're ostriches and the whole world is sand.

We're ostriches and the whole world is sand.