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

Face to face marketing is like trying to dig a grave with a spoon. Kill it faster with a shovel.

You may pray to God to remove the hills on your way and fill every pothole on your path; but don’t be surprised if God gives you a shovel to do so!

Our love is secret, like the location of the lost Templar Treasure. Quick, grab a shovel and help me look for it.

I dig art. With a shovel. In the cemetery.

No, I’m digging a grave for you.” It was at this point that I unsheathed Chuck Norris’ right arm and sliced you with a karate chop.

The smell of silence looks like the ghost of my grandpa. My love is deeper than six feet of dirt, and considerably easier to shovel.

The hills and mountains on your ways are going to be removed. But remember that’s what should happen when God gives you the shovel. Use your gifts; it’s the escape route!

Your fork is my shovel. I eat real estate and I drink coffee.

The shovel is bigger than the spoon, but it can never ever do the work the spoon does. They both look similar; they both have different sizes but one more thing not to forget is...

The earth has lots of love to give, if you just know where to dig. My advice is start in the cemetery.

To find my mistakes, you’re going to need a shovel—and a missing person’s list.

You don’t go to Gettysburg with a shovel, you don’t take belt buckles off the Arizona.

When I found him lying in the ditch holding a shovel, I thought he was sleeping on the job. Turns out he was being even lazier, and he was in fact dead.