Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.
We therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection.
Corpses are more fit to be thrown out than is dung.
All places are alike, and every earth is fit for burial.
I could never bear to be buried with people to whom I had not been introduced.
The beautiful uncut hair of graves.
The dreariest spot in all the land to Death they set apart; with scanty grace from Nature's hand, and none from that of Art.