Quotes About Cemetery

When you drive down Cemetery Road, the angel appears to be looking directly at you. Yet once you pass the monument and look back over your shoulder, the angel is still looking at you. Thus the appellation: the Turning Angel.

obelisk's symbolic representation of the male anatomy, which shouldn't be overlooked. As my physician wife, who's never shy with talking about body parts, puts it when we walk through old cemeteries packed with firmly erect obelisks, "A lot of men were overcompensating for something around here.

He lived his spiritual life without any communion with others, visiting his relatives at Christmas and escorting them to the cemetery when they died. He performed these two social duties for old dignity's sake but conceded nothing further to the conventions which regulate the civic life.

They've committed a *murder*! And it's not like taking a trolley ride together where they can get off at different stops. They're stuck with each other and they got to ride all the way to the end of the line and it's a one-way trip and the last stop is the cemetery.

Alcuni dicono che mezzanotte è l'ora più spaventosa per ritrovarsi in un cimitero. Si sbagliano. L'ora più terrificante è la prima luce dell'alba. Perché non c'è un posto dove nascondersi. Dal dolore. Da te stesso.

Like a faint haze it floats around us. We keep company with ghosts. Their graves are marked in our minds, and they will never be disinterred from the cemeteries of our remembrance.

I was brought up at 3525 Decatur Avenue, in the north Bronx, right next to Woodlawn Cemetery.

Where, in what cemetery of the heavens, did the tender words of lovers rest when they loved no longer?

Walking fueled his imagination and reminded him that there was another realm within our world, hidden away behind the walls of a mosque, in a collapsing wooden mansion, or inside a cemetery.

Where do you have her?" "You know that private cemetery in Hicksville?" "Yeah." "Show up at the gate after the sun rises and I'll buzz you in.

Memory is a cemetery I've visited once or twice

He who rejects change is the architect of decay. The only human institution which rejects progress is the cemetery.

ON THE FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF D-Day, I was broadcasting from the American cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach at Colleville-sur-Mer in Normandy, one of the bloodiest battlefields in American history. The cemetery is at once haunting and beautiful, with 9,386 white marble headstones in long, even lines across the manicured fields of dark green, each headstone marking the death of a brave young American. The anniversary was a somber and celebratory

Why not rise from the grave and terrorize a little instead of staying buried and dead in the cemetery?

I miss all of my old friends who have passed away. Sometimes you just don't understand why they were taken so soon. I loved and miss Johnny Cash. I miss my old buddy Johnny Paycheck, who happens to be buried in an area of the cemetery that I bought for my family.

My silent comrade, who is making great strides with lowered head, points out a field: "The cemetery," he says; "it was there before it was everywhere, before it laid hold on everything without end, like a plague.

Every surgeon carries within himself a small cemetery, where from time to time he goes to pray – a place of bitterness and regret, where he must look for an explanation for his failures.

If Poe haunted her grave at night as tradition asserts, the nature of his experiences in a dark cemetery with the sound of the night wind through the funereal gratings and tall grave grasses must have been searing to the soul of one who was scarcely more than a boy.

Have you ever heard this one? When you drive past a cemetery, you have to hold your breath. If you don't, the spirits of the newly dead can get in your body through your mouth and then they can possess you.

The result was a spectacular cemetery with an Egyptian gate and fence that surrounded lakes, winding paths, and lush foliage. People were ecstatic, and throngs of famous and ordinary city dwellers went there to walk, meditate, and play. "Cemeteries are all the 'rage'; people lounge in them and use them (as their tastes are inclined) for walking, making love, weeping, sentimentalizing, and everything in short," an Englishman wrote after he toured Mount Auburn.

People, I realized, were what I valued, and I saw no point in being the richest man in the cemetery.

The accident of a wrong turn had brought me there, and all I did by getting out of the car and entering the cemetery to find her grave was to bow to its impelling force. My mother and the other dead had been brought here by the impelling force of what was, after all, a more unlikely accident–having once lived

I stopped in St. Bernadette's Cemetery one of my favorite places... The trunks of six giant oaks rise like columns supporting a ceiling formed by their interlocking crowns. In the quiet space below, is laid out an aisle similar to those in any library. The gravestones are like rows of books bearing the names of those whose names have been blotted from the pages of life; who have been forgotten elsewhere but are remembered here.

You should take something to cheer you up a little. Just a little. Just enough so that you don't seem to be wandering loose all day in Bagneux cemetery.