#epitaph

The highest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude. ↗

— Thornton Wilder

#gratitude #grief

I always thought I'd like my own tombstone to be blank. No epitaph, and no name. Well, actually, I'd like it to say "figment." ↗

— Andy Warhol

#always #blank #epitaph #figment #i

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment. ↗

— Dorothy Parker

#humor #the-new-yorker #humor

When I die of heart failure the next time you frighten me like that, you can put that on my gravestone —‘I didn’t mean to startle her ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#epitaph #humor #masques #humor

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die. ↗

— Thomas Campbell

#epitaph #immortality #memory #remembrance #death

Here the whole world (stars, water, air, And field, and forest, as they were Reflected in a single mind) Like cast off clothes was left behind In ashes, yet with hopes that she, Re-born from holy poverty, In lenten lands, hereafter may Resume them on her Easter Day." (Epitaph for Joy Gresham) ↗

— C.S. Lewis

#epitaph #hope #joy-gresham #loss #love

Once upon a time there lived in Berlin, Germany, a man called Albinus. He was rich, respectable, happy; one day he abandoned his wife for the sake of a youthful mistress; he loved; was not loved; and his life ended in disaster. This is the whole of the story and we might have left it at that had there not been profit and pleasure in the telling; and although there is plenty of space on a gravestone to contain, bound in moss, the abridged version of a man's life, detail is always welcome. ↗

— Vladimir Nabokov

#life

It's not an epitaph. I felt I could look back at my life and get a good story out of it. It's a picture of somebody trying to figure things out. I'm not trying to create some impression about myself. That doesn't interest me. ↗

— Alan Alda

#back #could #create #epitaph #felt

Her close friends have gathered. Lord, ain't it a shame Grieving together Sharing the blame. But when she was dying Lord, we let her down. There's no use cryin' It can't help her now. The party's all over Drink up and go home. It's too late to love her And leave her alone. Just say she was someone Lord, so far from home Whose life was so lonesome She died all alone Who dreamed pretty dreams That never came true Lord, why was she born So black and blue? Oh, why was she born So black and blue? Epitaph (Black And Blue) Written by: Kris Kristofferson Note: "Epitaph" is about Janis Joplin. ↗

— Kris Kristofferson

#poetry #song-lyrics #dreams

Then on your tombstone, where you only get a little bit of space to sum up your life, some wax-faced creep chisels a set of meaningless numbers instead of poetry or a secret love or the name of your favorite candy. In the end, all you get is a few words. ↗

— Scott Nicholson

#epitaph #realization #simplicity #tombstone #death