Lord Byron Quotes

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone.

Low on his funeral couch he lies!

When anyone dies, it's sad.

When you attend a funeral, It is sad to think that sooner o' Later those you love will do the same for you. And you may have thought it tragic, Not to mention other adjec- Tives, to think of all the weeping they will do. (But don't you worry.

Passing away" is written on the world and all the world contains.

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.

Then, with an enormous rush of meadow-filled wind, the green candle went out, and my best friend died.

Death makes sad stories of us all.

When the friends we love the best Lie in their churchyard bed, We must not cry too bitterly Over the happy dead.

sometimes there's nothing to say about death.

death had just shred a tear

Funerals...are for the living.

I remember burying a girl fourteen years of age who had died with a ruptured appendix... I buried a good many people that I knew, some of whom I loved.

When one by one our ties are torn, and friend from friend is snatched forlorn; when man is left alone to mourn, oh! then how sweet it is to die!

Time is the only comforter for the loss of a mother.

I admit that death is not just about you, it's also about the people who love you.

Today we bury his remains in the earth as a seed of immortality. Our hearts are full of sadness, yet at the same time of joyful hope and profound gratitude.

My father's body lies in a stone tomb high on a hill. People walk by, pause, think their own thoughts about him and move on, back to their own lives. I can never move on. He is everywhere.

Death is a fearful thing.

To the solemn graves, near a lonely cemetery, my heart like a muffled drum is beating funeral marches.