Quotes for Events - Funeral

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Quotes for 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.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Formerly the deceased of the wealthy were buried in fancy caskets, of the poor in cheap coffins. This, too, was altered, and now all who die, whether rich or poor, are buried in inexpensive caskets.
Not a flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there!
I cannot choose but weep, to think they would lay him i' th' cold ground.
Then cheerly to your work again With hearts new-brac'd and set To run, untir'd, love's blesse'd race, As meet for those, who face to face Over the grave their Lord have met.
Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, And wash my Body whence the Life had died, And in a Windingsheet of Vine-leaf wrapt, So bury me by some sweet Garden-side.
No funeral gloom, my dears, when I am gone, Corpse-gazing, tears, black raiment, graveyard grimness; Think of me as withdrawn into the dimness, Yours still, you mine; remember all the best Of our past moments, and forget the rest.
Why is it that we rejoice at a birth and grieve at a funeral? Is it because we are not the person involved?
It comes strangely over me in bidding you good-bye how a life is but a day and expresses mainly but a single note. It is so much like the act of bidding an ordinary goodnight. Good night, my sacred old Father! If I don't see you again--Farewell! a blessed farewell!
I know those are the conventional virtues that are inscribed on tombstones--but he is the one person in a million who deserves them. Perhaps these virtues are so common in cemeteries because they are so rare in life.
Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red-- Cause there ain't no sense In my bein' dead.
Funerals are pretty compared to deaths. Funerals are quiet, but deaths--not always. Sometimes their breathing is hoarse, and sometimes it rattles, and sometimes they even cry out to you, "Don't let me go!"
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? Where, indeed. Many a badly stung survivor, faced with the aftermath of some relative's funeral, has ruefully concluded that the victory has been won hands down by a funeral establishment--in a disastrously unequal battle.
Every man in the chapel hoped that when his hour came he, too, would be eulogized, which is to say forgiven, and that all of his lapses, greeds, errors, and strayings from the truth would be invested with coherence and looked upon with charity. This was perhaps the last thing human beings could give each other, and it was what they demanded, after all, of the Lord.
I have no weddings or baptisms in the funeral home and the folks that pay me have maybe lost sight of the obvious connections between the life and the death of us. And how the rituals by which we mark the things that only happen to us once, birth and death, or maybe twice in the case of marriage, carry the same emotional mail--a message of loss and gain, love and grief, things changed utterly.

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