Quotes About Graves

How poor this world would be without its graves, without the memories of its mighty dead. Only the voiceless speak forever.

The Neanderthal graves and bear sanctuaries, our earliest certain evidences of religious ritual, point to an attempt to cope with the imprint of death.

Suicide was a sin. It would condemn her for eternity. But so was murder, even a just one sought out of righteous grief. The revenger always dug two graves, they said. One for his victim. One for himself. She'd never understood that old saying till now. Either way she was dead.

We went right on insulting the dead. We went right on spitting on the graves of all the poor ones who died before us...and some day we'll remember so much that we'll build the biggest Goddamn steam-shovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in and cover it up

The double row of berths yawned black, like graves tenanted by uneasy corpses.

Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, for they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap and turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends have travelled away from the neighborhood; so that when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance left to call upon. This is perhaps the reason why we so seldom hear of ghosts except in our long-established Dutch communities.

Besides, there is no encouragement for ghosts in most of our villages, for, they have scarcely had time to finish their first nap, and turn themselves in their graves, before their surviving friends have travelled away from the neighborhood; so that when they turn out at night to walk their rounds, they have no acquaintance left to call upon.

To look upon its grass grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace.

no one in their right mind would ever rob graves in broad daylight.

Lincoln was as calm and unruffled as the summer sea in moments of the gravest peril;

The mossy marbles rest On lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb.

The mossy marbles rest On lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a year On the tomb. Yet, beyond sharing

It is He who sent down water (knowledge) from the sky in measured amounts... And with it, We revived a dead land (consciousness)! Thus will you be brought out (from your graves – bodies). 43.Az-Zukhruf: 11

Like the experience of warfare, the endurance of grave or terminal illness involves long periods of tedium and anxiety, punctuated by briefer interludes of stark terror and pain.

Once, while cleaning the trout before I went home in the almost night, I had a vision of going over to the poor graveyard and gathering up grass and fruit jars and tin cans and markers and wilted flowers and bugs and weeds and clods and going home and putting a hook in the vise and tying a fly with all that stuff and then going outside and casting it up into the sky, watching it float over clouds and then into the evening star. (from Trout Fishing on the Bevel, page 21)

I have conquered them all, but I am standing amongst graves

Teddy wandered amongst the graves. Most of the people in them had died long before his time. Ursula was picking up conkers from the stand of magnificent horse chestnuts at the far end of the churchyard. They were enormous trees and Teddy wondered if their roots had intertwined with the bones of the dead, imagined them curling a path through ribcages and braceleting ankles and fettering wrists. When

No matter where; of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth

Do you have to open graves to find girls to fall in love with?

Dead men tell no tales, Mary.

The grave is sooner cloy'd than men's desire.

What a day it is when we must envy the men in their graves.

The first grave. Now we're getting someplace. Houses and children and graves, that's home, Tom. Those are the things that hold a man down.

Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.