Quotes about graveyard

May every living soul know eternal rest exist.

My body weeps to livewhen you make me believe that someday I will be deadsoul sleepless in graveyard's bed

Do all the work you can, there is enough rest in the grave.

The graveyard is the everlasting home of every man.

In the graveyard built on a garden. The death of Every flower added a little life to the heart of the corpses buried deep inside.

At the end of all spiritual paths, there lies only a cold graveyard; the path of science is the only path that may give you something better than this!

My ghost is the only soul who ever comes to cry on my grave... Only the skies cried sincerely on my funeral.

Graciously live life. There is return from the grave.

know one day, I will be gone.

The greatest loss is the loss of life.

What are we fighting for? When go down the grave naked?

In the grave, there is neither learning nor working. Learn while you can, work while you can.

The greatest loss is the lost of life.

Some people die and you realize that the only mark they left on earth are the tomb stones under which they lie. The impacts you make on earth should be something worthy to improve lives.

You don’t need a sad soul to feel the beauty of a dead graveJust stay with the pale moonwhen darkness wants the night to be brave

Live life with grace, there is no return from the grave.

We are only mortal flesh.

One grave in every graveyard belongs to the ghouls. Wander any graveyard long enough and you will find it - water stained and bulging, with cracked or broken stone, scraggly grass or rank weeds about it, and a feeling, when you reach it, of abandonment. It may be colder than the other gravestones, too, and the name on the stone is all too often impossible to read. If there is a statue on the grave it will be headless or so scabbed with fungus and lichens as to look like fungus itself. If one gra

In the quiet of the graveyard, the couple knelt together in soul-stretching silence—wishing, waiting, hoping, praying.

Stop digging up the past, lay down your shovel, the past is dead.

She glanced around at the tombstones. “You’re surrounded by death here. Way too depressing. You really might want to think about getting another job.”“You see death and sadness in these sunken patches of dirt, I see lives lived fully and the good deeds of past generations influencing the future ones.

Jacob studied the iron graveyard, where every vehicle was its own gravestone. He drove slowly through, as if he was afraid to wake the dead. That was not it though. The general made it clear that they should fear the living.

Ideas taken and planted into the grave do not germinate.

The graveyard is every man final resting place.

Prepare for a radio, for nothing is silent like the grave

I shook with cold and fear, without being able to answer. After a lapse of some moments, I was again called. I made an effort to speak, and then felt the bandage which wrapped me from head to foot. It was my shroud. At last, I managed feebly to articulate, 'Who calls?''Tis I' said a voice.'Who art thou?''I! I! I!' was the answer; and the voice grew weaker, as if it was lost in the distance; or as if it was but the icy rustle of the trees.A third time my name sounded on my ears; but now it seemed

Within its gates I heard the soundOf winds in cypress caverns caughtOf huddling tress that moaned, and soughtTo whisper what their roots had found.(“A Dream of Fear”)

As usual, he saves his wife's for last. He leans on the cane and he looks at the headstone and he thinks about many things. Taffy. He thinks about taffy. He thinks it would take his teeth out now, but he would eat it anyhow, if it meant eating it with her.

We must make time to reflect on life.Someday this life will be gone.

Delay is not a help-mate. The cemetary is full of people who thought they could DO IT tomorrow. Do It Now!

At first are moving tombs on the surface of the surface of the earth then we become static tombs in the brims of the cemetary soil waiting to become eternal people in fellowship for God. I know there is another fellowship in heaven!

Our character isn’t defined by the battles we win or lose, but by the battles we dare to fight.

A chill swept through the air, the sort of graveyard kiss promising bad news to follow.

There is an end to everything.

He overheard the director talking to one of the cameramen. The cameraman was explaining that he couldn’t get a good long shot on the exterior because someone had set up a fake graveyard right in the plaza.“Kids just playing around, I guess, but it’s morbid; we’ll have to get rid of it, maybe bring in some sod to—”“No,” Albert said.“We’re almost ready for you,” the director assured him.“That’s not a fake graveyard. Those aren’t fake graves. No one was playing around.”“You’re saying those . . . th

Death is the final destiny of every soul.

He’d seen a lot of bizarre items left at gravesides, like a carton of eggs, a pair of reading glasses, a bag of licorice, smooth stones, a spoon.

In the middle of the cemetery is a grassy plane, strangely vacant. There are no granite tombs or crumbling concrete, just a sun-washed treeless patch of green known as "No Man's Land." Here 1,500 unidentified bodies are buried. At one time, their skin burned with yellow fever; now they lie in a cool, dark place where long ago their arms and legs, hands and feet, were intertwined for eternity.

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,"

Seeing that I would never manage to fall asleep, I arose, lit a candle, and after dressing went outside.Beneath the dull glow of the winter moon the snow glowed like pale blue china. The sidewalks sparkled weakly beneath the rays of the flickering street lamps; the benumbed streets slumbered forlornly. I walked, passing one corner after the other, and suddenly found myself on the edge of town. Further, beyond the square, an endless expanse began to glisten with a somber silverness.I stopped just

Graveyards exist because death exists? No! Graveyards exist because we want to know precisely the place of our dead!

The dead neither see nor ear.

Silas consumed only one food, and it was not bananas.

A place for the newly weds and nearly deads I'm counting the stones I hope you know I love you.Got a lot of friends 6 feet under us.Counting down the days till we join the party.Thoughts of your nightmare projected through mine...Breathing in these lies is no surpriseThese evil things are all we knowLets take these lives where we want to go.The future is our prize, when the stars align.Ghouls and ghosts will haunt my soul but they will never take me.Before I go, I want to show that we can make a

Showmen's Rest was truly something to behold. Throughout the entire yard, statues and carvings of elephants, clowns, and tight-rope walkers danced on the gray and white surfaces of tombstones and grave-markers. For the first time, Michael got the feeling that the men and women who'd been buried there were probably really happy with their final resting place. It was a touching tribute, one that honored their passion in life and that had been constructed out of love and respect.

It is better to experience sorrow than happiness.Many life lessons are learnt in moments of sorrow.

The departed souls shall never return.