Hanno combattuto per la nostra libertà. Noi siamo ancora liberi, dunque loro sono ancora vivi.
Marco StrazziMots clés cemetery fallen wwii-fiction
Tombstones covered the dale, the smooth marble surfaces bright. She had spent days here as a teenager, though not out of any awareness of mortality. Like every adolescent, she intended to live forever.
Thomm QuackenbushMots clés death immortality adolescence teenager cemetery
In the beginning we start with roses. The king’s flower right? Only they wilt in less than a day, especially when exposed to the elements. But Carnations? Oh, what a beautiful flower. They come in every color. True, some are painted, but that doesn’t mean they are less beautiful, and they never wilt.
Ruth McLeod-KearnsMots clés love family loss death fiction flowers sad drama short-story cemetery sister carnations
Some of the more superstitious townsfolk even believed she was a witch. The fact that she had four dead husbands lined up in a neat row at the local Promise Land Cemetery was not an argument in her defense.
K. Martin BecknerMots clés witch cemetery widow
The office’ is a cemetery of dreams.
Mokokoma MokhonoanaMots clés dreams employment dreamer office cemetery give-up rent plan-b bill employee employer
My ghost is the only soul who ever comes to cry on my grave... Only the skies cried sincerely on my funeral.
Simona PanovaMots clés romance soul melancholy sadness death dead crying mystery sacrifice grave gothic young-adult dying graveyard funeral cry nightmare ghost cemetery sincere skies nightmarish odda
Have a look around, my pretty, we are surrounded by Death in all forms – just the two of us are still alive –
Simona PanovaMots clés life woman death sinister dark darkness live living old dead horror black mystery suspense grave girl gothic young-adult graveyard mysterious beautiful pretty witch divination hide alive occult female look cemetery scary scared scare occultism still-alive ominous gothic-romance goth young-adult-book fortune-telling young-adult-suspense mystify mystifying horrifying lurk old-witch still-dead
The beauty of the twentieth century is the charm of the hospital, the grace of the cemetery, of consumption and emaciation. I admit that I have submitted to it all; worse, I have loved with all my heart.
Jean LorrainMots clés beauty grace decadence consumption cemetery hospital 20th-century decadent decadents emaciated twentieth-century
Wherever you go in the next
catastrophé
Be it sickroom, or prison,
or cemet’ry
Do not fear that your stay will be
solit’ry
Countless souls share your fate,
you’ll have company!
Mots clés fear optimism friends freedom solitude fate death loneliness prison poem isolation togetherness illness sickness luck trouble roman farewell catastrophes cemetery rhyme optimist camaraderie optimistic roman-payne bad-luck 21st-century wanderess loneliness-quotes rhyming aesthete-press basement-trains french-american ill-fate moderoom stanza
The graveyard was at the top of the hill. It looked over all of the town. The town was hills - hills that issued down in trickles and then creeks and then rivers of cobblestone into the town, to flood the town with rough and beautiful stone that had been polished into smooth flatness over the centuries. It was a pointed irony that the very best view of the town could be had from the cemetery hill, where high, thick walls surrounded a collection of tombstones like wedding cakes, frosted with white angels and iced with ribbons and scrolls, one against another, toppling, shining cold. It was like a cake confectioner's yard. Some tombs were big as beds. From here, on freezing evenings, you could look down at the candle-lit valley, hear dogs bark, sharp as tuning forks banged on a flat stone, see all the funeral processions coming up the hill in the dark, coffins balanced on shoulders.
("The Candy Skull")
Mots clés mexico graveyard cemetery
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