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...

This world rubs me raw, scours me smooth like an SOS pad put to a grease-caked skillet. And pain: it stabs and scrapes and pulls me back to earth, my final B&B, that worm-spun cot...

My father was English. He date-raped my mother so she’s hated English men ever since. You know my boyfriend’s English, and I’m, uh, I’m half-English, which she’s never been real happy about. If she finds...

I’ve never written a quote I feel would be suitable for my gravestone. Wouldn’t it be ironic if it were this one? Oh, and could you pull a few weeds while you’re here?

An angel’s arm can’t snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can’t confine me there.

Everything was gone, the garden of wind and light, the Chrysalis, the Mother and her sister-crones, the rowan tree, everything. I was in a grove–no, it was a triad of trees: apple, oak, hazel. And...

Good had defeated evil, people proclaimed, a justification for atrocities best left forgotten. They would cling to this oversimplified truth while trading pats on the back and placing flowers on graves.

The dusty tombs of long-dead exorcist priests lay in the alcoves below, surmounted by stone effigies, the features eroded by the passing of time and the reverent caresses of their grateful parishioners, a reminder, she...

I love you,” and I couldn’t even tell if she was 300 miles away, or 6 feet below my feet and 300 years away.

Do we reflect on life? Someday this life will be gone.

Every artist takes their final work to the grave.

I killed my ex lovers and buried to my memories’ grave. It is JanuaryAnd I am tired of being brave.

I’m so paranoid that everyone starts to look like everyone. I convince myself I’m a con named Vince. My lips are thin and tight, but my tongue is broad and loose. I’m taking my secrets...

You chose to come to Paris, of all places,” Mencheres replied.So what? Got something against the French?

People who talk too much are only digging their own grave.

She bent and placed a single daisy upon the grave. A simple white daisy. The plainest of flowers, perhaps the purest, Elspeth thought. It had cost next to nothing at all, and perhaps that was...

Being buried alive in a cemetery would put me in grave danger.

We are given to the great, for great purpose, to great ends. We are given to the grave, for grave purposes, to grave ends.

If you continue to dig the same hole in the same place in your life, eventually you will be standing in a grave.

My shoes are scuffed and dirty from dancing. The grave of my enemy is where I go to find my inner Astaire.

In this case, it’s a stake. You could always feel around for something more, though. See what comes up.

The victims of homicide are the only ones who carry the true secrets of humanity to the grave. The ones only God knows

I never understood why when you died, you didn’t just vanish, everything should just keep going on the way it was only you just wouldn’t be there. I always thought I’d like my own tombstone...

I die with the dying light, yet shine brighter as the darkness approaches. Soon I’ll be whittled to bone and stripped clean through, nothing left but a skeleton on which to hang a hat. But...

The greatest loss is the loss of life.

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.

I stop fighting my inner demons. We’re on the same side now. T-shirt

My love is three times as deep as you voted for. You thought it was two feet deep, but it’s six feet deep, like a grave.

These are the kinds of things a guy thinks about when he visits his own grave.

Darker and darker, he said; farther and farther yet. Death takes the good, the beautiful, and the young – and spares me. The Pestilence that wastes, the Arrow that strikes, the Sea that drowns, the...

Dead men’s fingernails make lovely shallow-grave shovels.

You called her Kitten? And she let you? She put me in a coma for three days when Icalled her that! My balls never recovered from her smashing them into my spine!

There is at least one advantage to being an Indonesian citizen: With this country’s expanse of land and even greater expanse of sea, it’s not difficult finding space for one’s grave.

The grave and the image are equally links with the irrecoverable and symbols for the unimaginable.

After six long hours of driving and three rest stops, Tiger pulls up to a snow-topped, metal speaker box just outside the State Penitentiary’s first gate in Walla Walla. As he rolls down his window...

In the grave, there is neither learning nor working. Learn while you can, work while you can.

From the cradle to the grave, joy and pain is the fertilizer for wisdom.

I network like a salmon in a bear costume. Why swim upstream when the honeybee has all the flowers? Is anything more romantic than roses on a grave?

She was very close to my heart. Even though we were separated by a distance of 400 years, I was lying on her grave.

We do not have to see the beginning and the end of our lives, but we must close our eyes and live as if we didn’t start or would never end.

Listen in close, Wall Street Conquistadors, you’re spreading like vapor up through people’s floors, you’re moving en masse under the cracks of our doors and grabbing our children to work in your stores, feeding the...

Her name was Rose, and I’d hoped that one day our love would blossom like her name. It didn’t, so today it lives on atop a grave.

I love you. You have no idea what you are worth to me.

Whilst the wolflets bayed, A grave was made, And then with the strokes of a silver spade, It was filled to make a mound. And for two cold days and three long nights, The father...

Beware the irrational, however seductive. Shun the ‘transcendent’ and all who invite you to subordinate or annihilate yourself. Don’t be afraid to be thought arrogant or selfish. Picture all experts as if they were mammals....

The atmosphere is always very grave when I walk into a cemetery.

Death is the final destination of every man.

Tombs are the clothes of the dead and a grave is a plain suit; while an expensive monument is one with embroidery.

Our love was separated by time—and six feet of dirt. Still, I had to keep digging, because that’s just who I am, a romantic.

He’d probably be laughing in his grave about what the kids are doing here.