Cemetery Quotes
Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by Death in all forms – just the two of us are still alive –
He stroked her back and kept a fierce grip on her like she’d fade away into one of the thousands of ghosts in this cemetery.
My ghost is the only soul who ever comes to cry on my grave... Only the skies cried sincerely on my funeral.
Wherever you go in the next catastrophéBe it sickroom, or prison, or cemet’ryDo not fear that your stay will besolit’ryCountless souls share your fate, you’ll have company!
Prepare for a radio, for nothing is silent like the grave
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”)
The ghosts that exert the most power in people’s lives-at least, the people I know–tend to be of their own making, and consist of equal parts regret and old fears and just plain missing somebody.
At the very point that I’ve taken something for granted, I have at that same moment taken it to its grave. And if I look around, I realize I’ve cultivated quite a cemetery.
where oh where, in what cemetery of the heavens do the tender words of lovers rest when they love no more? (Searching for author)
Michael had always thought that seeing ghosts was stressful. Those wandering spirits were nothing compared to whatever women had going through their heads at all odd hours of the day.
Cemeteries are full of unfulfilled dreams... countless echoes of 'could have' and 'should have'… Don’t choose to walk the well-worn path to regret.
John Wesley’s own grave holds the bones of many other people, including at least five ministers. One can only imagine the bickering.
Sometimes to escape the noise of haunting memories, you need your best friends hand in your own, to help erase the sound and fill you with a sense of peace, even if it’s temporary.
Veins of ivy scale stones, find footholds butthe caretaker cuts earth short, peels creepers from Cotswold rock and props the deadhead to head so they won’ttopple like drunkson their moss-soft shadows.
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.
The cemetery was vanity transmogrified into stone. Instead of growing more sensible in death, the inhabitants of the cemetery were sillier than they had been in life.
