Lunning Funeral Chapel Quotes

When Annunziata said she loved me or any of her thousands of other friends and beloveds, she was really saying, at least in my mind, "God loves you." To quote the singer/songwriter James Taylor, she showered the people she loved with love, always showing the way that she felt without holding back. Even as her body could barely contain her soul any longer, she'd open wide the gates of herself with a smile, that giggle, her twinkling eyes, and she'd let the supernatural love flow through her. Walking out of the chapel after her funeral, a woman I'd never seen before stopped me and said, "You're Cathleen, aren't you?" "Yes," I croaked, tears rolling off my nose as I fingered the prayer card with Annunziata's picture on it. Slipping an arm around my shoulders, the woman explained that she was one of Annunziata's former students and said, "She loved you so much." I know. ~ Cathleen Falsani

A grin broke across Heath's hansome face. "The last time I saw such a collection of Boscastles in church was at Father's funeral. Who invited the mistresses?"
"I think I did, "Grayson said, suppressing a yawn."God knows I've been sitting here so long my brain's gone stiff."
"You invited them to a wedding?"
"It's not my wedding thank God."
"Well, it is your chapel."
"Ergo I invite whom I please."
"Someone might have thought to invite the groom. ~ Jillian Hunter

It wasn't surprising and it wasn't quite real. I kept thinking it was a bizarre mistake or a made-up story, until I called her mother, who told me how beautifully made up Marine's corpse was and urged me to see her at the funeral chapel. This with her cigarettes still in my ashtray, her hair still in my brush, her clothes still in my car, her voice still in my ears, so soon after we'd been looking at ourselves together in my mirror and she the more lithe, the more fluidly beautiful of the two ~ Rebecca Solnit

Have just been run over by tram-car at Patriarch's Ponds funeral Friday three pm come. Berlioz. ~ Mikhail Bulgakov

It is like visiting one's funeral, like visiting loss in its purest and most monumental form, this wild darkness, which is not only unknown but which one cannot enter as oneself. ~ Harold Brodkey

As a neighboring funeral terrifies sick misers, and fear obliges them to have some regard for themselves; so, the disgrace of others will often deter tender minds from vice. ~ Horace

...believing in the magic of life, the power of hope, the cosmic sanity of chance and change, and the unmistakable power of love. ~ Kris Radish Annie Freeman's Fabulous Traveling Funeral Pg. 297

The boy, Max Rüst, will later on become a tinker, father of seven more Rüsts, he will go to work for the firm of Hallis & Co., Plumbing and Roofing, in Grünau. At the age of 52 he will win a quarter of a prize in the Prussian Class Lottery, then he will retire from business and die during an adjustment suit which he has started against the firm of Hallis & Co., at the age of 55. His obituary will read as follows: On September, suddenly, from heart-disease, my beloved husband, our dear father, son, brother, brother-in-law, and uncle, Paul Rüst, in his 55th year. This announcement is made with deep grief on behalf of his sorrowing family by Marie Rüst. The notice of thanks after the funeral will read as follows: Acknowledgment. Being unable to acknowledge individually all tokens of sympathy in our bereavement, we hereby express our profound gratitude to all relatives, friends, as well as to the tenants of No. 4 Kleiststrasse and to all our acquaintances. Especially do we thank Herr Deinen for his kind words of sympathy. At present his Max Rüst is 14 years old, has just finished public school, is supposed to call by on his way there at the clinic for the defective in speech, the hard of hearing, the weak-visioned, the weak-minded, the in-corrigible, he has been there at frequent intervals, because he stutters, but he is getting better now. ~ Alfred Doblin

Lucas crept around the building to the back parking lot. And there it was, just like he had seen from the roof - a baby lying in a shopping cart. Lucas's mind went negative. What if the kid was dead? He tried to think if he had ever seen a dead person before. He'd never been to a funeral, and he knew he had never seen a dead baby. And he definitely didn't want to.
His heart pounded in his chest.
Lucas walked, almost tiptoed, toward the shopping cart. The last of the parking lot lights flickered out, leav-ing only the early morning sun. He moved across the blacktop, making sure not to step on a white line. At this moment he needed all the luck he could muster. As he got closer to the cart, he held his breath and swallowed. Then he grabbed the shopping cart handle and looked over into the basket.
He gasped. ~ Paul Aertker

I remembered back to leo's burial and holding your hand. I was eleven and you were six, your hand soft and small in mine. As the vicar said 'in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life' you turned to me, 'I don't want sure and certain hope I want sure and certain Bee. ~ Rosamund Lupton

Blameless as daylight I stood looking
At a field of horses, necks bent, manes blown,
Tails streaming against the green
Backdrop of sycamores. Sun was striking
White chapel pinnacles over the roofs,
Holding the horses, the clouds, the leaves

Steadily rooted though they were all flowing
Away to the left like reeds in a sea
When the splinter flew in and stuck my eye,
Needling it dark. Then I was seeing
A melding of shapes in a hot rain:
Horses warped on the altering green,

Outlandish as double-humped camels or unicorns,
Grazing at the margins of a bad monochrome,
Beasts of oasis, a better time.
Abrading my lid, the small grain burns:
Red cinder around which I myself,
Horses, planets and spires revolve.

Neither tears nor the easing flush
Of eyebaths can unseat the speck:
It sticks, and it has stuck a week.
I wear the present itch for flesh,
Blind to what will be and what was.
I dream that I am Oedipus.

What I want back is what I was
Before the bed, before the knife,
Before the brooch-pin and the salve
Fixed me in this parenthesis;
Horses fluent in the wind,
A place, a time gone out of mind."
"The Eye-Mote ~ Sylvia Plath

You are mortal: it is the mortal way. You attend the funeral, you bid the dead farewell. You grieve. Then you continue with your life. ~ Neil Gaiman

Let the dead have the immortality of fame, but the living the immortality of love. ~ Rabindranath Tagore

So what's all the fuss?" he asked instead. "Where's all the shit coming from?"
Dean told him. He tried to make it concise, using flash words such as "fire" and "conspiracy" and "big
freakin' shape-shifter," and told Roland, too, about Miri and Robert and Kevin. The red jade.
"You're both fucked," Roland said. "Seriously. I'll start arranging the funeral now."
"I want a happy boss. Where's the positive reinforcement?"
"Buried with Pollyanna in my backyard. Which is where you'll be if you don't play your cards right. ~ Marjorie M. Liu

For the next few minutes, I made great shots until a creepy biker guy stood too close and I missed. Cooper took the stick and studied the remaining balls.
"Don't cry when I beat your ass."
"Hell yeah," the biker said, laughing. "Some girls just love it rough."
Giving me a quick glance, Cooper glared at the guy. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I know your pop."
"Good for you, but if you don't back off and stop skeeving out my girl, my pop and I will be attending your funeral. ~ Bijou Hunter

The faint aroma of gum and calico that hangs about a library is as the fragrance of incense to me. I think the most beautiful sight is the gilt-edged backs of a row of books on a shelf. The alley between two well-stocked shelves in a hall fills me with the same delight as passing through a silent avenue of trees. The colour of a binding-cloth and its smooth texture gives me the same pleasure as touching a flower on its stalk. A good library hall has an atmosphere which elates. I have seen one or two University Libraries that have the same atmosphere as a chapel, with large windows, great trees outside, and glass doors sliding on noiseless hinges. ~ R.K. Narayan

Thistle," I said to the waiting air.

The goblin girl materialized before me.

"What do you want now, Goblin Queen?" she sneered.

"Where is Der Erlkönig?" I asked.

"In the chapel. As is his wont these days."

"Lead me to him."

Thistle raised an eyebrow, or she would have, had she had eyebrows at all. "You are braver than I reckoned, mortal, to interrupt His Majesty during his devotions."

I shrugged. "I believe in God's unending forgiveness."

"It's not your God's forgiveness you'd be needing. ~ S. Jae-Jones

Beside him a tiny elderly woman was leaning on a cane, studying him with curiosity. Since good manners seemed to require that he speak to her, Jon cast about for some sort of polite conversation pertinent to the occasion. "I hate funerals, don't you?" He said.
"I rather like them," she said smugly. "At my age, I regard each funeral I attend as a personal triumph, because I was not the guest of honor. ~ Judith McNaught

But I too hate long books: the better, the worse. If they're bad they merely make me pant with the effort of holding them up for a few minutes. But if they're good, I turn into a social moron for days, refusing to go out of my room, scowling and growling at interruptions, ignoring weddings and funerals, and making enemies out of friends. I still bear the scars of Middlemarch. ~ Vikram Seth

Elder Maxwell on Wintry Doctrines
Elder Maxwell said that "if we are serious about our discipleship Jesus will eventually request each of us to do those very things which are most difficult for us to do."
This was what he came to call the wintry doctrine at the funeral of a young father in 1996 he put it this way "There are in the gospel warm and cuddly doctrines and then there are some that are just outright wintry doctrines… one of them frankly is that we cannot approach real consecration without passing through appropriate clinical experiences because we don't achieve consecration in the abstract. … sometimes therefore the best people have the worst experiences… because they are the most ready to learn." (Bruce C. Hafen, The Story of A Disciple's Life: Preparing the Biography of Neal A. Maxwell, p. 14) ~ Neal A. Maxwell

The priesthood is not dying, but the clerical state is dead. It needs to be buried, preferably with a Viking funeral in Boston Harbor so nobody can miss the spectacle of its passing. ~ Eugene Kennedy

Vasco bought a bottle of vodka to celebrate and they drank it in the old sailors' graveyard in Mangrove South. This was where the funeral business had first put down its roots. Over the wall, between two warehouses, Jed could just make out the Witch's Fingers, four long talons of sand that lay in the mouth of the river. Rumour had it that, on stormy nights a century ago, they used to reach out, gouge holes in passing ships, and drag them down. Hundreds of wrecks lay buried in that glistening silt. The city's black heart had beaten strongly even then. There was one funeral director, supposedly, who used to put lamps out on the Fingers and lure ships to their doom. ~ Rupert Thomson

On the day of the funeral he had stood behind me in the rain and let the water wash over him, the drops falling from the brim of his hat like tears ~ John Connolly

This holy staircase is composed of eight-and-twenty steps, said to have belonged to Pontius Pilate's house and to be the identical stair on which Our Saviour trod, in coming down from the judgment-seat. Pilgrims ascend it, only on their knees. It is steep; and, at the summit, is a chapel, reported to be full of relics; into which they peep through some iron bars, and then come down again, by one of two side staircases, which are not sacred, and may be walked on. ~ Charles Dickens

Peter pushed off from the roof and stalked a few feet away, his back to her. "Please tell me this is all some kind of a sick joke."
"It's the truth. All of it. That's why hunters are after me."
"How did they find out?" Peter asked, swiveling toward her now.
"I think Beck ratted me out. I went to his house this morning and told him what had happened. He was furious, Peter. I've never seen anyone that angry."
"Duh! Now there's a surprise," her friend replied sarcastically. "I saw the way he looked at you at your dad's funeral. Of course he'd be mad. You're about the only one on the planet who doesn't realize how he feels about you."
"He never said anything," she retorted.
"Hey, we guys don't blurt out that kind of stuff," he replied. "It's against the man code. Beck may never have said how he felt, but everything he did for you should have been a big clue. I mean, come on, how slow are you?"
She glowered at her friend. "I figured he was doing it because of my father."
"Maybe, but the guy is really into you, Riley."
"No way. If he'd liked me, he wouldn't have blown me off and - "
"Ancient history, girl!" he countered. "You were, what, fifteen? Your dad would have torn him apart if he'd touched you. Beck had no other choice."
"He didn't have to be so mean."
"God, will you listen to yourself?" Peter retorted.
"You have no idea how much he hurt me," she shot back.
"Give it up, will you? You're my best friend, but ~ Jana Oliver

I've had to write a column an hour after I've come back from a funeral. A deadline is a deadline, I mean, that was just what my job was. ~ Laurie Notaro

The culture of sexual violence was so pervasive that even the prison chaplain was sexually assaulting women when they came to the chapel. ~ Bryan Stevenson

Since I wrote to you last we have got our chapel beautifully lighted with gas and have had our anniversary. ~ John Hawley

We make mistakes, we have our faults, and God knows some of us have more than our share, but when danger threatens and duty calls, we go smiling to our own funeral. ~ James Larkin

At funerals, people say things about a dead person that they should have told them while they were still alive. ~ Wayne Gerard Trotman

The purpose of a funeral service is to comfort the living. It is important at a funeral to display excessive grief. This will show others how kind-hearted and loving you are and their improved opinion of you will be very comforting. ~ P. J. O'Rourke