#funeral

Funerals aren't scheduled. ↗

— Benjamin J. Carey

#death #destiny #dying #funerals #life

I've been at the funerals of a lot of people in my neighborhood. Sometimes when I sit back and relax, I think about that and just blank out. ↗

— Carmelo Anthony

#back #been #blank #funerals #i

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

#dissection #funeral #science #science

Always go to other people's funerals, otherwise they won't come to yours. ↗

— Yogi Berra

#come #funerals #go #other #otherwise

An obituary should be an exercise in contemporary history, not a funeral oration. ↗

— Peter Utley

#contemporary history #exercise #funeral #history #obituary

People are scared to make something that doesn't look like another film that made a lot of money. It means we get 'Four Weddings And A Funeral' made again and again. ↗

— Billy Boyd

#another #film #four #funeral #get

Old age: I fall asleep during the funerals of my friends. ↗

— Mason Cooley

#asleep #during #fall #friends #funerals

Put no inscription over the grave, except the date of my birth and my death; and, wherever I am buried, let the funeral be perfectly private, with as few persons attending, and as little show and expense as possible. ↗

— Isaac Butt

#attending #birth #buried #date #death

I wanted to make a human monster. His name is Coffin Baby. The idea is based on a group of people from Pasadena whose names I can't mention. His mother died and during the funeral, this baby came out of her in the coffin. ↗

— Tobe Hooper

#based #came #coffin #died #during

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

#burial #death #funeral #grave #living