Quotes About Churchyards

I visit English country churchyards where historical figures are buried.

The Man of Wrath says all women love churchyards. He is fond of sweeping assertions, and is sometimes curiously feminine in his tendency to infer a general principle from a particular instance.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.

Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out contagion to this world.

Even in London, where space was at a premium, churchyards were traditionally filled with trees, evidence of a lasting pagan influence.

'Twas now the very witching time of night, When churchyards groan, and graves give up their dead, And many a mischievous, enfranchised sprite Had long since burst his bonds of stone or lead, And hurried off, with schoolboy-like delight, To play his pranks near some poor wretch's bed, Sleeping, perhaps serenely as a porpoise, Nor dreaming of this fiendish Habeas Corpus.

Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world; now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.