Best 267 quotes in «graves quotes» category

As they prepared themselves to go ashore no one doubted in theory that at least a certain percentage of them would remain on the island dead, once they set foot on it. But no one expected to be one of these. Still it was an awesome thought and as the first contingents came struggling up on deck in full gear to form up, all eyes instinctively sought out immediately this island where they were to be put, and left, and which might possibly turn out to be a friend's grave.

Death, distance, and time, shall each one of them dig graves for your affections; but this you do not know, nor can know, until the story of your life is ended.

But how nice it would be to know that some good Yankee woman - And there must be SOME good Yankee women. I don’t care what people say, they can’t all be bad! How nice it would be to know that they pulled weeds off our men’s graves and brought flowers to them, even if they were enemies. If Charlie were dead in the North it would comfort me to know that someone - And I don’t care what you ladies think of me,” her voice broke again, “I will withdraw from both clubs and I’ll — I’ll pull up every weed off every Yankee’s grave I can find and I’ll plant flowers, too — and — I just dare anyone to stop me!

Death or Samadhi, man's life leads only to the grave. Appreciate your life.

In the middle of the night, I saw chaos bleeding out of darkness and peace. Everything that was said and seen before seemed like a paradox. I saw the graves of lies breaking open and the truth crawling out silently into the cold hearts.

In the old days, trouble was kept in the family, which is still the best place for it, not that there's ever a best place for trouble. Why stir everything up again after that many years, with all concerned tucked, like tired children, so neatly into their graves?

Graves aren't for the dead. They're for the loved ones the dead leave behind them. Once those loved ones have gone, once all the lives that have touched the occupant of any given grave had ended, then the grave's purpose was fulfilled and ended. I suppose if you looked at it that way, one might as well decorate one's grave with an enormous statue or a giant temple. It gave people something to talk about, at least. Although, following that logic, I would need to have a roller coaster, or maybe a Tilt-A-Whirl constructed over my own grave when I died. Then even after my loved ones had moved on, people could keep having fun for years and years. Of course, I'd need a slightly larger plot.

How beautiful it is to replace the world inside us with someone else’s reality. The way we allow someone to look into our deepest fears and desires, our treasured secrets, our worst nightmares and our most beautiful dreams, without any hesitations. The way we give away everything that could destroy us completely to our last bit, and tear us off into uncountable pieces. And yet we sit there, expecting them to carve the most beautiful memories of our life that we could carry to our graves.

Is there any good left in the world/ And if there is, can you still find it in the places that matter? Why is it that the only places i see it now, is in the graves of the victims, and the tears of those who mourn them?

it is sad to fill a grave with a person full of potential yet completely emptied of anymore possibility to try it once again.

The ORDINARY RESPONSE TO ATROCITIES is to banish them from consciousness. Certain violations of the social compact are too terrible to utter aloud: this is the meaning of the word unspeakable. Atrocities, however, refuse to be buried. Equally as powerful as the desire to deny atrocities is the conviction that denial does not work. Folk wisdom is filled with ghosts who refuse to rest in their graves until their stories are told. Murder will out. Remembering and telling the truth about terrible events are prerequisites both for the restoration of the social order and for the healing of individual victims. The conflict between the will to deny horrible events and the will to proclaim them aloud is the central dialectic of psychological trauma. People who have survived atrocities often tell their stories in a highly emotional, contradictory, and fragmented manner that undermines their credibility and thereby serves the twin imperatives of truth-telling and secrecy. When the truth is finally recognized, survivors can begin their recovery. But far too often secrecy prevails, and the story of the traumatic event surfaces not as a verbal narrative but as a symptom. The psychological distress symptoms of traumatized people simultaneously call attention to the existence of an unspeakable secret and deflect attention from it. This is most apparent in the way traumatized people alternate between feeling numb and reliving the event. The dialectic of trauma gives rise to complicated, sometimes uncanny alterations of consciousness, which George Orwell, one of the committed truth-tellers of our century, called "doublethink," and which mental health professionals, searching for calm, precise language, call "dissociation." It results in protean, dramatic, and often bizarre symptoms of hysteria which Freud recognized a century ago as disguised communications about sexual abuse in childhood. . . .

Sending everything they touch to the grave is what they do, but they don't see it as a grave mistake, yet.

Oblong stones sink slow and sideways. Shaped by the weight of waves, dutifully vibrating nature’s lunar-bound graces, they wash ashore only for closed palms to forsake them. The cheerful will cherish them, place them on windowsills, or on graves.

Only the deceased could hear this quietness, he thought; no wonder they were tossing and turning in their graves seven feet under the ground – they cannot take it, they want out.

Some people die and you realize that the only mark they left on earth are the tomb stones under which they lie. The impacts you make on earth should be something worthy to improve lives.

When Harper was in among the stones she could see brass plaques screwed into the towering pillars of granite. One listed the names of seventeen boys who had died in the mud of eastern France during the First World War. Another listed the names of thirty-four boys who had died on the beaches of western France during the Second. Harper thought all tombstones should be this size, that the small blocks to be found in most graveyards did not even begin to express the sickening enormity of losing a virgin son, thousands of miles away, in the muck and cold. You needed something so big you felt it might topple over and crush you.

The sunken grave would fade away, probably in my lifetime. If I could avoid killer zombies for a few years. And vampires. And gun-toting humans. Oh, hell, the hot-spot would probably outlast me.

Throw your hands and pull up those in the valley do the hill. However, press your feet on the ground so hard that you don’t fall into the same valley together. Some people’s helping hands became their grave digging tools!

...what an unfair advantage the dead had over the living, for there could be no rebuttal, no denial, nothing but the accusing silence of the grave.

Wind blew snow crystals back and forth between the graves. The ancient pines creaked overhead.

Where’s Dekka?” Astrid asked. “In the basement,” Edilio said. “She kept going for a long time. Her and Orc and Jack. But she’s sick. Tired and sick. And she got a bad burn on one hand. That was it for her. I made her go to Dahra. Lana will…you know, when she’s done with…Man, I’m sorry,” he said as he began crying again. “I can’t be digging graves. Someone else has to do that, okay? I can’t do that anymore.

Yes, Death brings us again to our friends. They are waiting for us, and we shall not long delay. They have gone before us, and are like the angels in heaven. They stand near the borders of the grave to welcome us, with the countenance of affection, which they wore on earth; yet more lovely, more radiant, more spiritual! O, he spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels!

Words can heal, words can also kill. Choose your words carefully so that you'll pull people away from their emotional graves rather than pushing them into it! Inspire, don't insult!

You’re great at fixing things. If anyone could do it, you could. But you can’t do this one. You can’t fix me. I’m broke.

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

A grave blockhead should always go about with a lively one - they show one another off to the best advantage.

Addiction to food is unfortunately really grave, also to alcohol or to anything else.

A grave, on which to rest from singing?

After carrying and collecting like the ant, Enjoy-before the grave worm devours thee.

A grave, wherever found, preaches a short and pithy sermon to the soul.

All our lives are activity without meaning; we burrow ratlike into life and we squirm ratlike through it and ratlike we are flung into our graves at the end. Now and then, why shouldn't we hear a voice of prophecy.

A little time, and thou shalt close thy eyes; and him who has attended thee to thy grave, another soon will lament.

All our lives we sweat and save, Building for a shallow grave.

And either victory, or else a grave.

All roads end at the grave, which is the gate to nothingness.

All that lies betwixt the cradle and the grave is uncertain.

A man is the sum of his ancestors; to reform him you must begin with a dead ape and work downward through a million graves.

And by a prudent flight and cunning save A life which valour could not, from the grave. A better buckler I can soon regain, But who can get another life again?

[A] man and still more the woman, who can be accused either of doing "what nobody does," or of not doing "what everybody does," is the subject of as much depreciatory remark as if he or she had committed some grave moral delinquency.

And care, whom not the gayest can outbrave, Pursues its feeble victim to the grave.

And some day well remember so much that well build the biggest goddam steamshovel in history and dig the biggest grave of all time and shove war in and cover it up.

Animals are also the ones that are guarding the graves, and they are the ones who communicate between the dead and the alive.

And this is a grave responsibility, projected from within each of us, not to settle for the convenient, the shoddy, the conventionally expected, nor the merely safe.

APOTHECARY, n. The physician's accomplice, undertaker's benefactor and grave worm's provider

Any nation that allows the government to dominate its monetary and economic policies will ultimately suffer grave consequences.

A resignation is a grave act; never performed by a right-minded man without forethought or with reserve.

As for food, half of my friends have dug their graves with their teeth.

A rut is a grave with the ends kicked out.

Book burnings. Always the forerunners. Heralds of the stake, the ovens, the mass graves.

A whole world is taken to the grave with the dead person; each one of us is unique and unrepeatable.