Buried Quotes - Page 11

• Something had been buried that was not yet dead.

  Sebastian Faulks

  Sebastian Faulks (2010). “Birdsong”, p.161, Random House

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• Teach him to live rather than to avoid death: life is not breath, but action, the use of our senses, our mind, our faculties, every part of ourselves which makes us conscious of our being. Life consists less in length of days than in the keen sense of living. A man maybe buried at a hundred and may never have lived at all. He would have fared better had he died young.

  Jean-Jacques Rousseau

  Men, Mind, Use

  Emile Bk 1 (1762)

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• That's the paradox: the only time most people feel alive is when they're suffering, when something overwhelms their ordinary, careful armour, and the naked child is flung out onto the world. That's why the things that are worst to undergo are best to remember. But when that child gets buried away under their adaptive and protective shells—he becomes one of the walking dead, a monster.

  Ted Hughes

  Children, People, Walking Dead

  Ted Hughes, Christopher Reid (2008). “Letters of Ted Hughes”, Farrar Straus & Giroux

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• I wanted a metamorphosis, a change to fish, to leviathan, to destroyer. I wanted the earth to open up, to swallow everything in one engulfing yawn. I wanted to see the city buried fathoms deep in the bosom of the sea. I wanted to sit in a cave and read by candlelight. I wanted that eye extinguished so that I might have a chance to know my own body, my own desires. I wanted to be alone for a thousand years in order to reflect on what I had seen and heard - and in order to forget.

  Henry Miller

  Eye, Cities, Order

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• All things belonging to the earth will never change-the leaf, the blade, the flower, the wind that cries and sleeps and wakes again, the trees whose stiff arms clash and tremble in the dark, and the dust of lovers long since buried in the earth-all things proceeding from the earth to seasons, all things that lapse and change and come again upon the earth-these things will always be the same, for they come up from the earth that never changes, they go back into the earth that lasts forever. Only the earth endures, but it endures forever.

  Thomas Wolfe

  Flower, Sleep, Dark

  Thomas Wolfe (2011). “You Can't Go Home Again”, p.39, Simon and Schuster

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• Love . . . is like nature, but in reverse; first it fruits, then it flowers, then it seems to wither, then it goes deep, deep down into its burrow, where no one sees it, where it is lost from sight, and ultimately people die with that secret buried inside their souls.

  Edna O'Brien

  Beautiful, Flower, Love Is

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• Afraid of decision, I buried my finer feelings in the depths of my heart and they died there.

  Mikhail Lermontov

  Heart, Decision, Feelings

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• In the eulogy by the graveside, I told everyone how my sister and I used to sing to each other on our birthday. I told them that, when I thought of my sister, I could still hear her laughter, sense her optimism, and feel her faith. I told them that my sister was the kindest person I;ve ever known, and that the world was a sadder place without her in it. And finally, I told them to remember my sister with a smile, like I did, for even though she was being buried near my parents, the best parts of her would always stay alive, deep within our hearts.

  Nicholas Sparks

  Laughter, Heart, Optimism

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• A friend is someone who knows where all your bodies are buried. Because they're the ones who helped you put them there." And sometimes, if you're really lucky, they help you dig them back up.

  Jenny Lawson

  Lucky, Body, Helping

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• Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.

  John Keats

  Summer, Dream, Twilight

  John Keats (1914*). “The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats”, p.64, Рипол Классик

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• Do you know, Mother, that Haj Salem was buried alive in his home? Does he tell you stories in heaven now? I wish I had had a chance to meet him. To see his toothless grin and touch his leathery skin. To beg him, as you did in your youth, for a story from our Palestine. He was over one hundred years old, Mother. To have lived so long, only to be crushed to death by a bulldozer. Is this what it means to be Palestinian?

  Susan Abulhawa

  Mother, Home, Mean

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• Here is The Boy with the Thorn in His Side, dying in your world. A man made monster with every human emotion, overdosed on worthlessness in a world that could never wrap it’s head around him (so don’t even try). When it’s all over just remember every single word you ever said was always just a bullet to his head. Bury him underground between friends and love - the only things that are gonna make it to the end with him. Look for his body buried beneath where the yellow weeds are growing and know he’s still living in his nightmares.

  Pete Wentz

  Weed, Boys, Men

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• My surface is myself. Under which to witness, youth is buried. Roots? Everybody has roots.

  William Carlos Williams

  Roots, Youth, Conformity

  William Carlos Williams (1995). “Paterson”, p.31, New Directions Publishing

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• I put Algernon's body in a cheese box and buried him in the backyard. I cried.

  Daniel Keyes

  Backyards, Body, Cheese

  Bert Coules, Daniel Keyes (1993). “The Play of Daniel Keyes' Flowers for Algernon”, p.71, Heinemann

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• The man who has known pure joy, if only for a moment ... is the only man for whom affliction is something devastating. At the same time he is the only man who has not deserved the punishment. But, after all, for him it is no punishment; it is God holding his hand and pressing rather hard. For, if he remains constant, what he will discover buried deep under the sound of his own lamentations is the pearl of the silence of God.

  Simone Weil

  Men, Hands, Silence

  Simone Weil (1977). “The Simone Weil Reader”

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• Requiescat Tread lightly, she is near Under the snow, Speak gently, she can hear The daisies grow. All her bright golden hair Tarnished with rust, She that was young and fair Fallen to dust. Lily-like, white as snow, She hardly knew She was a woman, so Sweetly she grew. Coffin-board, heavy stone, Lie on her breast, I vex my heart alone She is at rest. Peace, Peace, she cannot hear Lyre or sonnet, All my life’s buried here, Heap earth upon it.

  Oscar Wilde

  Lying, Heart, White

  Oscar Wilde, Russell Jackson, Ian Small (2000). “The Complete Works of Oscar Wilde: Poems and poems in prose”, p.5, Oxford University Press on Demand

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• To feel physically comfortable with someone else's body is not a decision you make. It has very little thing to do with how two people think or act or talk or even look. The mysterious magnet is either there, buried somewhere deep behind the sternum, or it is not.

  Elizabeth Gilbert

  Thinking, Decisions You Make, Two

  Elizabeth Gilbert (2010). “The Complete Elizabeth Gilbert: Eat, Pray, Love; Committed; The Last American Man; Stern Men & Pilgrims”, p.277, A&C Black

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• It's what's buried deep inside that frightens me because it's broken, like a shattered mirror.

  Jessica Sorensen

  Mirrors, Broken, Shattered

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• The fear of meeting the opposition of envy, or the illiberality of ignorance is, no doubt, the frequent cause of preventing many ingenious men from ushering opinions into the world which deviate from common practice. Hence for want of energy, the young idea is shackled with timidity and a useful thought is buried in the impenetrable gloom of eternal oblivion.

  Robert Fulton

  Ignorance, Science, Men

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• [During the 20th century] ... 170 million men, women, and children have been shot, beaten, tortured, knifed, burned, starved, frozen, crushed, or worked to death; buried alive, drowned, hung, bombed, or killed in any other of the myriad ways governments have inflicted death on unarmed, helpless citizens and foreigners.

  Rudolph Rummel

  Children, Men, Liberty

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• Indiana Jones: Archaeology is the search for fact... not truth. If it's truth you're looking for, Dr. Tyree's philosophy class is right down the hall. ... So forget any ideas you've got about lost cities, exotic travel, and digging up the world. We do not follow maps to buried treasure, and "X" never, ever marks the spot. Seventy percent of all archaeology is done in the library. Research. Reading.

  Jeffrey Boam

  Philosophy, Reading, Philosophical

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• ...Was it because a lot of the heat went into melting Arctic sea ice or parts of Greenland and Antarctica, and other glaciers? Was it because the heat was buried in the ocean and sequestered, perhaps well below the surface?...Perhaps all of these things are going on?

  Kevin E. Trenberth

  Ocean, Ice, Sea

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• Until the dead are buried they change somewhat in appearance each day. The color change in Caucasian races is from white to yellow, to yellow-green, to black. If left long enough in the heat the flesh comes to resemble coal-tar, especially where it has been broken or torn, and it has quite a visible tarlike iridescence. The dead grow larger each day until sometimes they become quite too big for their uniforms, filling these until they seem blown tight enough to burst. The individual members may increase in girth to an unbelievable extent and faces fill as taut and globular as balloons.

  Ernest Hemingway

  War, Yellow, White

  Ernest Hemingway (2002). “Death in the Afternoon”, p.112, Simon and Schuster

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• We are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is impossible. We grow up with this idea, and as the years accumulate, so too do the layers of prejudice, fear and guilt. There comes a time when our personal calling is so deeply buried in our soul as to be invisible. But know that it's still there.

  Paulo Coelho

  Giving Up, Growing Up, Ideas

  Paulo Coelho (1998). “The Alchemist - 10th Anniversary Edition”, HarperSanFrancisco

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• I want to be buried in a Valentino gown and I want Harry Winston to make me a toe tag.

  Joan Rivers

  Gowns, Want, Toes

  Joan Rivers (2012). “I Hate Everyone...Starting with Me”, p.44, Penguin

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