When I go, if there's a tombstone it will say, She doesn't give in. She doesn't give up. And she never takes no for an answer.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I used to want the words 'She tried' on my tombstone. Now I want 'She did it.'
I did not want my tombstone to read, 'She kept a really clean house.' I think I'd like them to remember me by saying, 'She opened government to everyone.'
However much you knock at nature's door, she will never answer you in comprehensible words.
It's really sort of morbid, but she said her mother wanted to see me all her life. And when she died, she made just one request: that a picture of me be put into her casket. So somewhere in England, I'm in a casket.
The tombstone is about the only thing that can stand upright and lie on its face at the same time.
And she could never give me an answer. And I realized that, you know, I had a problem on my hands.
You know how when people lose their grandma or grandpa, people they say they're sorry? They do mean it, but... there's nothing to say. There's a void that cannot be filled.
A good character is the best tombstone. Those who loved you and were helped by you will remember you when forget-me-nots have withered. Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.
Tombstones don't talk back.
I don't want a tombstone. You could carve on it 'She never actually wanted a tombstone.'