I can't think of a more wonderful thanksgiving for the life I have had than that everyone should be jolly at my funeral
Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men.
According to most studies, people's number one fear is public speaking. Number two is death. Death is number two. Does that sound right? This means to the average person, if you go to a funeral, you're better off in the casket than doing the eulogy.
A wedding is a funeral where you smell your own flowers.
The stars are not wanted now, put out every one Pack up the moon & dismantle the sun.
When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
It's often said that life is strange. But compared to what?
As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so life well used brings happy death.
The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living.
Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man? Three treasures, love and light, And calm thoughts, regular as infants' breath; And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
The chief mourner does not always attend the funeral.
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone. Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Everyone dies but not everyone lives.
Life can only be understood backwards.
People will never forget how you made them feel.
The passing of the years awakens in our hearts the cry for permanence.
When words are most empty, tears are most apt.
If I should go before the rest of you Break not a flower nor inscribe a stone, Nor when I'm gone speak in a Sunday voice But be the usual selves that I have known. Weep if you must, Parting is hell, But life goes on, So sing as well.
The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal - every other affliction to forget: but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open - this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.
Life, like a child, laughs, shaking its rattle of death as it runs.
Not by lamentations and mournful chants ought we to celebrate the funeral of a good man, but by hymns, for in ceasing to be numbered with mortals he enters upon the heritage of a diviner life.
Secular humanists can sit around and talk about their love of humanity, but it doesn't stack up against a two-millennium-old funeral high mass.
To die or not to die ... we really don't have a choice. We can therefore only take care of our life-body, until the fullness of time and being ends our existence on earth.
Saying, 'I'm sorry' is the same as saying, ' I apologize.' Except at a funeral.
I never hear the rattling of dice that it does not sound to me like the funeral bell of the whole family.
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