Author: Epitaph Page 28

Here lies two brothers by misfortune surrounded; one died of his wounds but the other was drownded.

Epitaphs

Behold! I come as a thief. – Death loves a shining mark. – In this case he had it.

Epitaphs

Here lies, cut down like unripe fruit, The wife of Deacon Amos Shute. She died of drinking too much coffee, Anno Dominy eighteen forty

Epitaphs

Here rests an old woman who always was tired, for she lived in a house where no help was hired; Her very last words were, “My friends I am goin*, to a land where there's nothin' of washin' or sewin', and everything there shall be just to ray wishes, for where they don't eat there's no washin' of dishes; the land with sweet anthems is constantly ringin', but having no voice I'll get clear of the singin'." She folded her hands, her latest endeavor, and whispered, "Oh nothin', sweet nothin forever."

Epitaphs

Here lies the body of Ephraim Wise. Safely tucked between his two wives. One was Tillie and the other Sue. Both were faithful, loyal, and true. By his request in ground that's hilly. His coffin is set tilted toward Tillie.

Epitaphs

Here lies Robert Trollope Who made yon stones roll up. When death took his soul up His body filled this hole up.

Epitaphs

Leslie Nielsen (1926 – 2010) “Let ‘er rip”

Epitaphs

He has gone to the only place where his own works are excelled.

Epitaphs

Posterity will ne'er survey – A nobler grave than this: – Here lies the bones of Castlereagh: – Stop, traveller, and piss.

Epitaphs

Here lies a man never beat by a plan, straight was his aim and sure of his game, never was a lover but invented a revolver.

Epitaphs

Buried here beneath this clay lies gardener John Arbothnaut Jay. Now in his simpeternal home, a constant source of high-grade loam.

Epitaphs

Good friends for Jesus' sake forbear – To stir the dust enclosed here. – Blest be the man who spares these stones – And cursed be he who moves my bones.

Epitaphs

Ingenious youth, thou art laid in dust. Thy friends, for thee, in tears did burst.

Epitaphs

Here lies my wife, poor Molly, let her lie, she finds repose at last, and so do I.

Epitaphs

John Edwards who perished in a fire. None could hold a candle to him.

Epitaphs

A live Dog is better than a dead Lion. Come drop a tear as you pass by, as you are now so once was I, as I am now you soon must be, prepare for death and follow me.

Epitaphs

He held the pall at the funeral of Shakspeare.

Epitaphs

Here lies one who never sacrificed his reason to superstitious God, nor ever believed that Jonah swallowed the whale.

Epitaphs

A traveller lies here at rest, who life's rough ocean tossed on. His many virtues all expressed, thus simply – “I'm from Boston.”

Epitaphs

How sleep the brave who sink to rest, by all their country's wishes blest, they sleep not in their regimentals. Such things being here not deemed essentials.

Epitaphs

Two great physicians first, my Loving husband tried, to cure my pain, in vain. At last he got a third, and then I died.

Epitaphs