#burial

Anyway, they took her body to McBurney's Funeral Home in Motley. They'll be planting her tomorrow. ↗

— Peter Hedges

#death #funeral #death

I remember that day in early May after Le Vesconte's and Private Pilkington's brief joint burial service, one of the men suggested that we name the small spur of land where they were buried "Le Vesconte Point," but Captain Crozier vetoed that idea, saying that if we named every place where one of us might end up buried after the dead person there, we'd run out of land before we ran out of names. ↗

— Dan Simmons

#death #francis-rawdon-moira-crozier #death

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes; Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching Earth; Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs. She hath no questions, she hath no replies. ↗

— Jeffrey Eugenides

#christianity #death #earth #funeral #poem

When people got old, why did they always develop a passion for scrabbling in the earth? Were they trying to get used to it? ↗

— Sergei Lukyanenko

#burial #death #elderly #humor #death

I always have one or two, sometimes more, Navajo or other tribes' cultural elements in mind when I start a plot. In Thief of Time, I wanted to make readers aware of Navajo attitude toward the dead, respect for burial sites. ↗

— Tony Hillerman

#attitude #aware #burial #cultural #dead

So long as there is one pretty girl left on the stage, the professional undertakers may hold up their burial of the theater. ↗

— George Jean Nathan

#girl #hold #left #long #may

I want to be buried where I’m temporarily working without pay. As a permanent intern people will still walk all over me, but at least they'll remember my name - there will be a plaque under the memos. ↗

— Bauvard

#funny #humor #internships #remembrance #funny

A sematary," I say. "A what?" Viola says, looking round at all the square stones marking out their graves. Must be a hundred, maybe two, in orderly rows and well-kept grass. Settler life is hard and it's short and lotsa New World people have lost the battle. "It's a place for burying dead folk," I say. Her eyes widen. "A place for doing what?" "Don't people die in space?" I ask. "Yeah," she says. "But we burn them. We don't put them in holes." She crosses her arms around herself, mouth and forehead frowning, peering around at the graves. "How can this be sanitary? ↗

— Patrick Ness

#cemetary #cremation #dead #death #dying

By mere burial man arrives not at bliss; and in the future life, throughout its whole infinite range, they will seek for happiness as vainly as they sought it here, who seek it in aught else than that which so closely surrounds them here - the Infinite. ↗

— Johann Gottlieb Fichte

#aught #bliss #burial #closely #else

THE BARROW In this high field strewn with stones I walk by a green mound, Its edges sheared by the plough. Crumbs of animal bone Lie smashed and scattered round Under the clover leaves And slivers of flint seem to grow Like white leaves among green. In the wind, the chestnut heaves Where a man's grave has been. Whatever the barrow held Once, has been taken away: A hollow of nettles and dock Lies at the centre, filled With rain from a sky so grey It reflects nothing at all. I poke in the crumbled rock For something they left behind But after that funeral There is nothing at all to find. On the map in front of me The gothic letters pick out Dozens of tombs like this, Breached, plundered, left empty, No fragments littered about Of a dead and buried race In the margins of histories. No fragments: these splintered bones Construct no human face, These stones are simply stones. In museums their urns lie Behind glass, and their shaped flints Are labelled like butterflies. All that they did was die, And all that has happened since Means nothing to this place. Above long clouds, the skies Turn to a brilliant red And show in the water's face One living, and not these dead." — Anthony Thwaite, from The Owl In The Tree ↗

— Anthony Thwaite

#burial #death #funeral #grave #living