Quotes About Grave

Something stiffened, moved. Just as Alyss realized who it was, standing with bowed head at Sir Justice's grave-- Dodge . --He whirled around, the point of his sword aimed at her throat. Not the warmest way to great your... She was about tosay queen but changed her mind. ...friend.

Now she saw only the circle of stars. They were like the luminous tips of weapons aimed down at her. A shower of meteors crossed her patch of night. The meteors seemed to her like a warning, like tiger stripes, like luminous grave slats clabbering her blood. And she felt the chill of the price on their heads.

There's no quiet place here on earth for our love, not in the village and not anywhere else, so I picture a grave, deep and narrow, in which we embrace as if clamped together, I bury my face against you, you yours against me, and no one will ever see us.

The first thing you see in my hallway is a large 18th-century bust of Milton, who stares at me as I watch TV and reminds me of the grave and committed role of the poet. Although he was blind, Milton had one of the most unswerving gazes of all English poets.

Time is the king of all men, he is their parent and their grave, and gives them what he will and not what they crave.

it will earn neither the esteem of the grave nor the love of the frivolous, who are the two highest columns of opinion.

He prolongs their life and prosperity so that they may continue heaping sin upon sin and all the more richly deserve the torments that await them beyond the grave.

The human being, more and more oppressed by the peculiar terms of his existence - one time around for each, no more than a single life per customer - has to think of the boredom of death. O those eternities of nonexistence! For people who crave continual interest and diversity, O! how boring death will be! To live in the grave, in one place, how frightful!

I see no end to my misery but the grave.

In life like a flood, in deeds like a storm I surge to and fro, Up and down I flow! Birth and the grave An eternal wave, Turning, returning, A life ever burning; At Time's whirring loom I work and play God's living garment I weave and display.

Spirit: In floods of being, in action's storm, Up and down I wave, To and fro I flee, Birth and the grave, An infinite sea, A changeful weaving, An ardent living; The ringing loom of Time is my care, And I weave God's living garment there

And there is another thing he has in mind like a grave Sienese face a thousand years would fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking.

God himself took a day to rest in, and a good man's grave is his Sabbath.

That so all vapours of all disobedience to thee, being subdued under my feet, I may, in the power and triumph of thy Son, tread victoriously upon my grave, and trample upon the lion and dragon [182] that lie under it to devour me.

Here lies my wife: here let her lie!Now she's at rest, and so am I.

Life ... is only heavy and none else; there is only the one trip, all heavy. Heavy that leads to the grave. For everyone and everything.

If life is not real, life is not earnest, and the grave is its goal, perhaps it's ridiculous t otake ourselves so seriously.

We are given to the great, for great purpose, to great ends. We are given to the grave, for grave purposes, to grave ends.

How! leap into the pit our life to save? To save our life leap all into the grave.

How nice it would be to be dead if only we could know we were dead. That is what I hate, the not being able to turn round in the grave and to say It is over.

Out of a grave I come to tell you this,— Out of grave I come to quench the kiss That flames upon your forehead with a glow That blinds you to the way that you must go. Yes, there is yet one way to where she is,— Bitter, but one that faith can never miss. Out of a grave I come to tell you this— To tell you this.

A liar doesn't care about others since it is insincere and unfaithful, even with its own life; in this context, it is a grave sentence.

guess he wasnt a lotus eater-the frowned people of today-the land which time forgot to change-was the guru of alexandar the great-pity the lotus eaters(qoute the time machine)-my tribute to all the fallen ones-the lotus eaters-rest in peace in grave-pity you didnt have machiavellian persons like him to teach-the dear departed ones-let them at least know peace in their grave.

Down the Peninsula at Cypress Lawn Cemetery, a woman in a paisley turban climbed out of a battered automobile and trudged up the hillside to a new grave. She stood there for a moment, humming to herself, then removed a joint from a tortoise-shell cigarette case and laid it gently on the grave. "Have fun," she smiled. "It's Colombian.