Quotes About Funeral

Quotes tagged as "funeral" (showing 1-30 of 133)
Mark Twain
“I did not attend his funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it.”
Mark Twain

Markus Zusak
“I want words at my funeral. But I guess that means you need life in your life.”
Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

Jodi Picoult
“How could you go about choosing something that would hold the half of your heart you had to bury?”
Jodi Picoult, Mercy

Sylvia Plath
“That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses.
"Save them for my funeral," I'd said.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Emily Dickinson
“I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –

And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My Mind was going numb –

And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll,

As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race
Wrecked, solitary, here –

And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –”
Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems

Frankie Boyle
“For 3 million you could give everyone in Scotland a shovel, and we could dig a hole so deep we could hand her over to Satan in person. (on Margaret Thatcher)”
Frankie Boyle

Rosamund Lupton
“Your coffin reached the monstrous hole. And a part of me went down into the muddy earth with you and lay down next to you and died with you.”
Rosamund Lupton, Sister

Molly Harper
“Most of the funeral stuff is going to be done during daylight hours,” I said.
“I’m not even going to be able to attend the burial.
Humans get upset when vampires burst into flames right next to them.”
Molly Harper, Nice Girls Don't Date Dead Men

Kurt Vonnegut
“Be aware of this truth that the people on this earth could be joyous, if only they would live rationally and if they would contribute mutually to each others' welfare.

This world is not a vale of sorrows if you will recognize discriminatingly what is truly excellent in it; and if you will avail yourself of it for mutual happiness and well-being. Therefore, let us explain as often as possible, and particularly at the departure of life, that we base our faith on firm foundations, on Truth for putting into action our ideas which do not depend on fables and ideas which Science has long ago proven to be false.”
Kurt Vonnegut, Palm Sunday: An Autobiographical Collage

John Cleese
“Graham Chapman, co-author of the "Parrot Sketch", is no more. He has ceased to be. Bereft of life, he rests in peace. He's kicked the bucket, hopped the twig, bit the dust, snuffed it, breathed his last, and gone to meet the great Head of Light Entertainment in the sky. And I guess that we're all thinking how sad it is that a man of such talent, of such capability for kindness, of such unusual intelligence, should now so suddenly be spirited away at the age of only forty-eight, before he'd achieved many of the things of which he was capable, and before he'd had enough fun. Well, I feel that I should say: nonsense. Good riddance to him, the freeloading bastard, I hope he fries. And the reason I feel I should say this is he would never forgive me if I didn't, if I threw away this glorious opportunity to shock you all on his behalf. Anything for him but mindless good taste.
(He paused, then claimed that Chapman had whipered in his ear while he was writing the speech):
All right, Cleese. You say you're very proud of being the very first person ever to say 'shit' on British television. If this service is really for me, just for starters, I want you to become the first person ever at a British memorial service to say 'fuck'.”
John Cleese

Bram Stoker
“Never did tombs look so ghastly white. Never did cypress, or yew, or juniper so seem the embodiment of funeral gloom. Never did tree or grass wave or rustle so ominously. Never did bough creak so mysteriously, and never did the far-away howling of dogs send such a woeful presage through the night.”
Bram Stoker, Dracula

John Green
“I'm telling you, Augustus Waters talked so much that he'd interrupt you at his own funeral.”
John Green, The Fault in Our Stars

Mary Roach
“The point is that no matter what you choose to do with your body when you die, it won't, ultimately, be very appealing. If you are inclined to donate yourself to science, you should not let images of dissection or dismemberment put you off. They are no more or less gruesome, in my opinion, than ordinary decay or the sewing shut of your jaws via your nostrils for a funeral viewing.”
Mary Roach, Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

Michael J.  McManus
“I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it." - Mark Twain”
Michael J. McManus

Ann-Marie MacDonald
“It's important to attend funerals. It is important to view the body, they say, and to see it committed to earth or fire because unless you do that, the loved one dies for you again and again.”
Ann-Marie MacDonald, Fall on Your Knees

Howard Zinn
“Being fired has some of the advantages of dying without its supreme disadvantages. People say extra-nice things about you, and you get to hear them.”
Howard Zinn, You Can't Be Neutral on a Moving Train: A Personal History of Our Times

Mary Roach
“Here's the other thing I think about. It makes little sense to try to control what happens to your remains when you are no longer around to reap the joys or benefits of that control. People who make elaborate requests concerning disposition of their bodies are probably people who have trouble with the concept of not existing. [...] I imagine it is a symptom of the fear, the dread, of being gone, of the refusal to accept that you no longer control, or even participate in, anything that happens on earth. I spoke about this with funeral director Kevin McCabe, who believes that decisions concerning the disposition of a body should be mad by the survivors, not the dead. "It's non of their business what happens to them whey the die," he said to me. While I wouldn't go that far, I do understand what he was getting at: that the survivors shouldn't have to do something they're uncomfortable with or ethically opposed to. Mourning and moving on are hard enough. Why add to the burden? If someone wants to arrange a balloon launch of the deceased's ashes into inner space, that's fine. But if it is burdensome or troubling for any reason, then perhaps they shouldn't have to.”
Mary Roach, Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers

“Western funerals: black hearses, and black horses, and fast-fading flowers. Why should black be the colour of death? Why not the colours of a sunset?”
Daniele Varè, The Maker of Heavenly Trousers

Michael Bassey Johnson
“The more death, the more birth. People are entering, others are exiting. The cry of a baby, the mourning of others. When others cry, the other are laughing and making merry. The world is mingled with sadness, joy, happiness, anger, wealth, poverty, etc.”
Michael Bassey Johnson

Rosamund Lupton
“I remembered back to leo's burial and holding your hand. I was eleven and you were six, your hand soft and small in mine. As the vicar said 'in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life' you turned to me, 'I don't want sure and certain hope I want sure and certain Bee.”
Rosamund Lupton, Sister

Hilary McKay
“Oh, Caddy," said Saffron miserably.
"I know. It's awful. But I'm going. We all should."
"It will be so sad."
"You have to be sad sometimes," said Caddy. "Whatever Dad says. He may be right. Granddad probably had totally lost his marbles, but I am still sad and I'm still going to the funeral. I shall be as unhappy as I like and I shall where black.”
Hilary McKay, Saffy's Angel

Jeffrey Eugenides
“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, The Virgin Suicides

Anthony Thwaite
“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

J. Lincoln Fenn
“I never saw a dollar bill cry at anyone's funeral.”
J. Lincoln Fenn

James Whitcomb Riley
“A Parting Guest

What delightful hosts are they—
Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away,
This late hour, yet glad enough
They have not withheld from me
Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight
And all gratitude, I stay
Yet to press their hands and say,
Thanks.—So fine a time! Good night.”
James Whitcomb Riley

Saki
“I think she might at least have waited till the funeral was over,' said Amanda in a scandalized voice.

'It's her own funeral, you know,' said Sir Lulworth; 'it's a nice point in etiquette how far one ought to show respect to one's own mortal remains.' ("Laura")”
Saki, The Complete Saki

Téa Obreht
“It's a sad thing to see, because as far as I know, this man Gavo had done nothing to deserve being shot in the back of the head at his own funeral. Twice.”
Téa Obreht, The Tiger's Wife

Dave Eggers
“Not that there seems to be any appropriate place to bury someone, but these municipal cemeteries, or any cemetery at all for that matter, like the ones by the highway, or the ones in the middle of town, with all these bodies with their corresponding rocks - oh it's just too primitive and vulgar, isn't it? The hole, and the box, and the rock on the grass? And we glamorize this process, feel it fitting and dramatic, austerely beautiful, standing there by the hole as we lower the box. It's incredible. Barbaric and base.”
Dave Eggers, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius

Jan Neruda
“The face of the dead man was concealed, of course, our customs not being those of the south, where corpses are carried to the grave in open coffins, that they might – one last time before slipping into the pit – be warmed by the light of the sun.”
Jan Neruda, Prague Tales

Peter Hedges
“Anyway, they took her body to McBurney's Funeral Home in Motley. They'll be planting her tomorrow.”
Peter Hedges, What's Eating Gilbert Grape

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