Quotes
Quotes about Grave
Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, play the man! We shall this day light such a candle, by God's grave, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.
Vicissitudes of fortune, which spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, which buries empires and cities in a common grave.
We are not free, it was not intended we should be. A book of rules is placed in our cradle, and we never get rid of it until we reach our graves. Then we are free, and only then.
The cradle of the future is the grave of the past.
The horseleach hath two daughters, crying, Give, give. There are three things that are never satisfied, yea four things say not, It is enough: The grave; and the barren womb; the earth that is not filled with water; and the fire that saith not, It is enough.
Little girls, I am in the business of putting old heads on young shoulders, and all my pupils are the crème de la crème. Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she is mine for life.
Who track the steps of Glory to the grave.
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Glutton: one who digs his grave with his teeth.
Glutton: one who digs his grave with his teeth.
There's a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Khatmandu, There's a little marble cross below the town, There's a broken-hearted woman tends the grave of Mad Carew, And the yellow god forever gazes down.
The grave's the market place.
By Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab, There lies a lonely grave; But no man built that sepulcher, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod And laid the dead man there.
Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
One foot in the grave.
Nigh to a grave that was newly made, Leaned a sexton old on his earth-worn spade.
The grave, dread thing! Men shiver when thou'rt named: Nature appalled, Shakes off her wonted firmness.
The grave is Heaven's golden gate, And rich and poor around it wait; O Shepherdess of England's fold, Behold this gate of pearl and gold! - William Blake,
Build me a shrine, and I could kneel To rural Gods, or prostrate fall; Did I not see, did I not feel. That One Great Spirit governs all. O Heaven, permit that I may lie Where o'er my corse green branches wave; And those who from life's tumults fly With kindred feelings press my grave.
Gravestones tell truth scarce forty years.
I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'Twere pleasant, that in flowery June When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a joyous sound, The sexton's hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain-turf should break.
Perhaps the early grave Which men weep over may be meant to save.
But an untimely grave.
(Julian would learn something) even if he had one foot in the grave. [Lat., Etsi alterum pedem in sepulchro haberem.]
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th' inevitable hour, The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
