Author: Epitaph Page 14

Here Lies Jane Smith Wife of Thomas Smith Marble Cutter: This monument erected by her husband as a tribute to her memory and a specimen of his work. Monuments of this style are two hundred and fifty dollars.

She did what she could. Not Goodbye, but au revoir. In loving memory of My Dear Wife Annie Edith Faithfull (1877–1954)

Assuming my death has occurred, and five doctors have concurred. Please REVIVE me! If you can get no breath, take the person who caused my death, and bury them right beside me.

Here lies Bernard Lightfoot who was accidentally killed in his forty fifth year.

Here lies the landlord Tommy Dent In his last cosy tenement.

I knew if I stayed around long enough, something like this would happen

I made an ash of myself

Here lies the body of Jonathan Stout. He fell in the water and never got out, And still is supposed to be floating about.

There once was a man named Don, who fell asleep out on his lawn. They thought he was pretending to be dead, then a tombstone fell on his head. And now Don is long gone.

Here lies the body of Miriam Wood, formerly wife to John Smith. A woman well beloved of all her neighbors for her care of small folks' education, their number being great, that when she died she scarcely left her mate: so wise discreet was her behaviours that she was well esteemed by neighbors. She lived in love with all to die so let her rest to eternitye.

To follow you I am not content, How do I know Which way you went.

Fhebe Sprague. – In the sixteenth year of her age, – Natively quick and spry – As all young people be, – When God commands them down to dust, – How quick they drop you see.

 Here lies the body of Dr Hayward, a man who never voted. Of such is the kingdom of Heaven.

Accidentally shot as a mark of affection by his brother. After life's fever, I sleep well.

Here lies John Ross, kick'd by a boss.

Here lies Groucho Marx and Lies and Lies and Lies

I came I know not whence, I go I know not whither.

Here Lieth W.W. – Who never more will, trouble you, trouble you

Haine haint

I had a lover's quarrel with the world

He Never Killed a Man That Did Not Need Killing