Quotes About Tomb

Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.

Florida was a living tomb, she used to tell anyone who'd listen, an old-age home in the shape of a state, God's little waiting room, as she was fond of quoting.

Now, in the Scripture there is not the slightest trace of any such thing as a pilgrimage to the tomb of saint, martyr, prophet, or apostle. The very way in which the Lord saw fit to dispose of the body of Moses in burying it Himself in the plains of Moab, so that no man should ever know where his sepulchre was, was evidently designed to rebuke every such feeling as that from which such pilgrimages arise.

There is no culture without a tomb and no tomb without a culture; in the end the tomb is the first and only cultural symbol. The above-ground tomb does not have to be invented. It is the pile of stones in which the victim of the unanimous stoning is buried. It is the first pyramid.

The waters were his winding sheet, the sea was made for his tomb;Yet for his fame the ocean sea, was not sufficient room.

According to John a man died, was in a tomb for three days, and then on the Sunday he came back to life and walked away. A god is involved. 'That figures.

A flick of a switch reveals a space half homeless-person's midden, half pharaonic tomb. Talismans everywhere: totems, drawings, and cargo cult, laid out on plywood planks spread across sawhorses.

You want to know how Egyptians pulled the brains out of mummies. or built the pyramids, or cursed King Tut's tomb? My dad's your man.

I sought my death and found it in my womb, I looked for life and saw it was a shade, I trod the earth and knew it was my tomb, And now I die, and now I was but made; My glass is full, and now my glass is run, And now I live, and now my life is done. —Chidiock Tichborne

Catholicism is the tomb of intelligence, of thought, of brain; Protestantism, the tomb of conscience, of feeling, of heart.

Jealousy is cruel as a tomb, its embers are embers of fire.

Nunca podré expresar el impacto que experimenté al abrir la puerta: era arrancar tu propia tumba para desembocar en el misterio.

They tell a story, probably not true, about a cap trooper who was sight-seeing in Paris. He visited Les Invalides, looked down at Napoleon's coffin, and said to a French guard there: Who's he? The Frenchman was properly scandalized. Monsieur does not know? This is the tomb of Napoleon! Napoleon Bonaparte! The greatest soldier who ever lived! The cap trooper thought about it. Then he asked, So? Where were his drops?

You think I should use magick like mine to open a tomb? Mari asked in a scoffing tone. Mistress of bluffing, working it here. That'd be like calling you in to lift a feather.

Yes, she might have managed to lift the portcullis—with concentration, an unprecedented bout of luck, and the absence of a hangover. Oh, and if she were in mortal danger. Unfortunately, her power was adrenaline-based, making it as infinite as it was uncontrollable. "You think I use magick like mine to open a tomb?" Mari asked in a scoffing tone. Mistress of bluffing, working it here.

Test every work of intellect or faith, And everything that your own hands have wrought And call those works extravagance of breath That are not suited for such men as come Proud, open-eyed and laughing to the tomb.

Crowns have their compass-length of days their date- Triumphs their tomb-felicity, her fate- Of nought but earth can earth make us partaker, But knowledge makes a king most like his Maker.

Then did I check the tears of useless passion- Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine; Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten Down to that tomb already more than mine. And, even yet, I dare not let it languish, Dare not indulge in memory's rapturous pain; Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish, How could I seek the empty world again?

Sweet hours have perished here; This is a mighty room; Within its precincts hopes have played,— Now shadows in the tomb.

As a reviewer once told me, the story of Alexander's tomb without a body is like Hamlet without the Prince…. The rest is silence.

Take away love and our earth is a tomb.

Without love, our earth is a tomb

How sad it must be for you to be nothing more than a hollow statue, to have your tomb preserved and your story forgotten.

So, fill me in, what's been going on here?" "All kinds of scandal," Clarissa said. "Amy almost drowned, Demetria is going to beat up a patriarch's wife, our room was trashed by conspiracy theorists, Dragon's Head broke into the tomb in Connecticut, and Jenny has a crush on Harun." "Do not!" Jenny said. "In other words," said Demetria. "The usual." Odile laughed. "Man, I love this society.