I wish to be cremated. One tenth of my ashes shall be given to my agent, as written in our contract.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
What's going to happen when I die? I may be buried, or I may be cremated, I may give my body to science. I haven't decided yet.
I am my heart's undertaker. Daily I go and retrieve its tattered remains, place them delicately into its little coffin, and bury it in the depths of my memory, only to have to do it all again tomorrow.
Live so that when the final summons comes you will leave something more behind you than an epitaph on a tombstone or an obituary in a newspaper.
You can flush my ashes down the toilet, for all I care.
Let my body be delivered to the earth without attention to the place where it lies; nothing should be associated with my dusty remains. Shame on him who draws any attention to a rotted flesh that is already no longer mine: he is worshipping the worms nibbling it.
My own funeral, I'd like to be laid out in a coffin in my own house. I would like my coffin to be put in the double parlor, and I would like all the flowers to be white.
I want to be frozen on the hope that they'll find whatever I died of and bring me back.
When I die, I'll probably climb out of the coffin and play the organ at my own funeral!
When I die, I hope they don't cremate me 'cuz I'll burn forever.
My husband wanted to be cremated. I told him I'd scatter his ashes at Neiman Marcus - that way, I'd visit him every day.