Quotes About Buried

she can remember everyone admiring a rare kind of evening they spoke of as something they ought to save from oblivion to describe to their children later. And that for her part she would have had it hidden, had that late summer evening buried and burned to ashes.

Yes, she can remember everyone admiring a rare kind of evening they spoke of as something the ought to save from oblivion to describe to their children later. And that for her part she would have had it hidden, had that late summer evening buried and burned to ashes.

All our land was enriched with my treasures buried in it, thickly inhabited just below the surface with my marbles and my teeth and my colored stones, all perhaps turned to jewels by now, held together under the ground in a powerful taut web which never loosened, but held fast to guard us.

Ä°fade edilmemiÅŸ duygular asla ölmez, sadece diri diri gömülür ve sonradan daha korkunç ÅŸekillerde tezahür ederler.

Emoções não expressadas jamais morrem. Elas são enterradas vivas e voltarão mais tarde, mais feias.

Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive, and will come forth later, in uglier ways.

Unexpressed emotions will never die They are buried alive, and will come forth later, in uglier ways. -Sigmund Freud' From: A Silent Patient

Les émotions non exprimées ne meurent jamais. Elles sont enterrées vivantes et libérées plus tard de façon plus laides.

Thus the tired fantasy of cheap, abundant nuclear power needs to be buried alongside the Eisenhower-era propagandists who dreamed it up in the first place.

Cicadas are intimately acquainted with pain, because they know what it is to die a slow death as a spectacle for someone else's pleasure. But they do not die when they are buried. They merely dream, and listen to other buried things, things that perhaps should not have been buried at all. They remember what they hear. When they wake, they are ready to tell the secrets they know. When they wake, they sing.

In pagan times women were buried with accoutrements that reflected the female role in society. Instead of the tools, weapons and hunting dogs that accompanied men, women took household utensils, implements for needlework, spinning and weaving, jewellery and lapdogs with them on their journey to the next life.

When truth is buried underground it grows, it chokes, it gathers such an explosive force that on the day it bursts out, it blows up everything with it.

I should point out that the Gospels do not indicate on which day Jesus was raised. The women go to the tomb on the third day, and they find it empty. But none of the Gospels indicates that Jesus arose that morning before the women showed up. He could just as well have arisen the day before or even the day before that—just an hour, say, after he had been buried. The Gospels simply don't say.

In proper men there is hidden a light which darkness makes visible. I believe that the hope of mankind is in this buried glory; the spirit which makes true men hang on to the throats of their enemies at the very rim of the grave.

As time passes, the actual complexity of our history - even of our own personal experience - gets buried under the weight of the ideal image.

History can't give attention to what's been lost, hidden, or deliberately buried; it is mostly a telling of success, not the partial failures that enabled success.[31] Without at least imagining the missing dimensions to the stories, our view of how to make things happen in the present is seriously compromised.

all apologies for getting most of your fortune buried under shit. I hope we can all still be friends.

She had tempted them as she had tempted him, with ancient knowledge and the path to power. But that past should stay buried, and power given easily comes with a terrible price. If

By the tenets of the Zoroastrian religion, the elements, Earth, Fire, and Water, are sacred, and must not be contaminated by contact with a dead body. Hence corpses must not be burned, neither must they be buried. None may touch the dead or enter the Towers where they repose except certain men who are officially appointed for that purpose. They receive high pay, but theirs is a dismal life, for

group of Steiners and Liesel walked past some shop windows and the imposing town hall, which in later years would be chopped off at the knees and buried.

society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from

Something lay buried in the ground. Under grass. Under twenty-three years of June rain. A small forgotten thing. Nothing that the world would miss. A child's plastic wristwatch with the time painted on it. Ten to two, it said.

I was always wild territory buried below manicured lawns and once I had ripped pretty flowers from the careful parts of me unearthed keening once I left the whole damn thing open to the sky I touched a place in me too Wild to ever pull weeds again or water plastic grass again or prop the baby tree with sticks again or call my soul cultivated again I was never going down that way

Your face when you came back from diving that time told me everything; there is a hunger in you, Clark. A fearlessness. You just buried it, like most people do.