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Cemetery Quotes

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Cemetery Quotes

“Wherever you go in the next catastrophé Be it sickroom, or prison, or cemet’ry Do not fear that your stay will be solit’ry Countless souls share your fate, you’ll have company!”

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Book:The Basement Trains: A 21st Century Poem
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“You are a cool cemetery. You have the sinner’s grave You have the saint’s earth colliding You have all the beds narrow as a knife; as if a rally of tombstones to defend death. But you can’t really postpone the inauguration of my burial, can you? From the poem - Few Words to Cemetery”

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Book:Beyond The Vernal Mind
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“Three years earlier her father had been buried (irritable and impatient as he always had been) in the Fladstrand Church cemetery that bordered the lovely park, Plantagen, which shared with the cemetery its trees, shared its beech and ash and maple, in the same plot where her mother, wide eyed and confused, had lain down almost willingly two years before, where her brother had lain for thirty-five years, dazed and unwillingly after too short a life. A dove was looking down from atop the family gravestone. It was made from metal so it could not fly away, but sometimes it went missing all the same and only a spike would remain. Someone had taken that dove, someone out there maybe had an entire collection of doves and angels and other small, Christian bronze sculptures in a cupboard at home and on long evenings would close the curtains and take them out and run his fingers gently over the smooth, cold bodies.”

DeathDeath Of A Loved OneCemetery
Author:Per Petterson
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“I stopped in St. Bernadette's Cemetery one of my favorite places... The trunks of six giant oaks rise like columns supporting a ceiling formed by their interlocking crowns. In the quiet space below, is laid out an aisle similar to those in any library. The gravestones are like rows of books bearing the names of those whose names have been blotted from the pages of life; who have been forgotten elsewhere but are remembered here.”

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Book:Fear Nothing
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“Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by Death in all forms – just the two of us are still alive –”

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Book:Nightmarish Sacrifice
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“You think your life is unfurling in a certain way, and you let yourself grow happy about it, a smile rising at the slightest thing. A boy in short pants eating a pastelito makes you grin like a lunatic at the vision of your own hoped‐for children, their dark shiny heads rising, year by year, from the Cuban earth, your wife towering behind them, kind and wise. Then you find yourself in a midnight cemetery guarding your mustache from the covetous ghost of an American woman you once loved. Who wouldn’t laugh?”

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Book:The Only Sound Is the Wind: Stories
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“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 grave in a graveyard looks like a target for petty vandals, that is the ghoul-gate. If the grave wants to make you be somewhere else, that is the ghoul-gate.”

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Book:The Graveyard Book
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“I do not believe in the government of the lash, if any one of you ever expects to whip your children again, I want you to have a photograph taken of yourself when you are in the act, with your face red with vulgar anger, and the face of the little child, with eyes swimming in tears and the little chin dimpled with fear, like a piece of water struck by a sudden cold wind. Have the picture taken. If that little child should die, I cannot think of a sweeter way to spend an autumn afternoon than to go out to the cemetery, when the maples are clad in tender gold, and little scarlet runners are coming, like poems of regret, from the sad heart of the earth—and sit down upon the grave and look at that photograph, and think of the flesh now dust that you beat. I tell you it is wrong; it is no way to raise children! Make your home happy. Be honest with them. Divide fairly with them in everything.”

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Book:The Liberty of Man, Woman and Child
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“Я не принимал участие ни в каких торжественных мероприятиях [14.10.2016], ни в каких шествиях, парадах. Кстати, мне очень непонятно, чего это вдруг парад "Азова" ― это "парад патриотов"? Тогда парад "Свободы" ― это парад кого... барабанов? Я не пошел ни туда, ни сюда, а вместе со своей семьей сегодня поехал по кладбищам, где похоронены пацаны. Я не патриот? Я разговаривал с семьей на Лесном кладбище, где похоронен боец "Азова" с позывным "Вальтер". Я стоял с его вдовой, с его дочерью, с его братом и женой брата. И никого там больше не было. Ни барабанов, ни факелов. Там вообще никого не было.”

WarDeathMemoryMourningCelebrationUkraineCemeteryCommemoration
Author:Георгий Тука
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“A soft breeze settled around our shoulders as we walked into the cemetery. That same breeze made the world around us shiver a little bit. The slick green leaves of the tall trees rustled, and the long curtain of ivy dangling from the branches began to wave. When the ivy blows in the graveyard, it casts the prettiest lacelike shadows on the ground. They remind me of banners, rippling over the dearly departed in silent celebration.”

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Book:The Key to Extraordinary
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“Every Friday evening since the late sixties, at 5:00 p.m. we'd walk into the nearby Brompton Cemetery, which, since its four corners connect Fulham, Chelsea, South Kensington, and Earl's Court, was a convenient meeting point for all our friends. We'd plan our weekend on the grave of Admiral Angus Whitewater. We didn't know the Admiral, he just happened to have an impressive horizontal slab of black marble over his last resting place, which made a great table for drinks.”

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Author:Pooley Clara
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“Are you afraid of cemeteries? Yes, you can be! But you know, I think the cemetery is also afraid of you, because you are life, you are not like death, which has no other ability than to destroy! You have creative powers, you have the potential to carry life to eternity, so the cemetery is also afraid of you! You whistle in fear when you visit it, but it whistles silently in fear when you come!”

Mehmet Murat Ildan QuotesLife And DeathCemeteryCemeteriesLife And Death QuotesCemetery Quote
Author:Mehmet Murat Ildan
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“Olaf’s casket was carefully placed on canvas straps across the open grave, ready to be lowered with hand cranks. At the head stood the young minister who I felt certain, couldn’t wait until all of this was over. He mumbled a few unintelligible words that ended with “forever and ever, amen.” When he finished, I nodded to the two men to start lowering the casket on its final descent. All went well until halfway down one of the straps suddenly snapped, and with a thud Olie dropped headlong into the place of his eternal rest. The canvas strap had rotted and now the casket was jammed at an awkward angle in the grave. Fortunately there was a tow-rope in the pick-up. I leaned over and balanced myself with one foot on the tilted casket and managed to pass the rope under it. Then with everyone’s cooperation and strength, we managed to level the casket and properly lower Olaf into his grave. Although happy may not be the right word, all of us were pleased to have this behind us. Before leaving, Captain Duffy suggested we go to the new hotel on the beach owned by a Belgian couple. Now with the money already set aside by the company for this occasion, the mood quickly changed from one of mourning to a celebration of Olaf’s life.”

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Author:Captain Hank Bracker, "Seawater Two...."
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“The richest person in the cemetery is the one who left the most happy memories.”

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Author:Matshona Dhliwayo
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“The two friends enjoyed wandering through this place. It was small. Only a city block. Unobtrusive. This was where some of the pioneer workers of Seattle were laid to rest. Laborers who worked in sawmills. Regular folk born when Seattle was a mill town. Regular working class, now buried under ground stones. These folk had to fight to simply survive. Remembered by their children and grandchildren, they worked for a better tomorrow for those they loved. These people had smiled, and danced, and hoped. They had lived. Now buried, most had no fancy education to show for their troubles. They were not part of the elite, yet those who lay here were great. These souls were not the most renowned or powerful, but were, in truth, the best of the world. As Zin and Obia wandered through, they saw various headstones were flat, unobtrusive, and resting in the grass. Right in the ground, without any markers.”

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Book:Zin
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