In the tight belly of the dead, Burrow with hungry head, And inlay maggots like a jewel.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
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.
The stones themselves are thick with history, and those cats that dash through the alleyways must surely be the ghosts of the famous dead in feline disguise.
The dead keep their secrets, and in a while we shall be as wise as they - and as taciturn.
Born in a cellar... and living in a garret.
The dead govern the living.
It gives a fellow an awful shiver to hear the first shovelful of dirt and gravel rattle down upon the coffin; but after it is covered, it falls gently and makes no sound. The feeling of rest is perfect. There's no more nagging, no more pain!
I want a natural burial. Just straight into the ground in a shroud.
The wretch who digs the mine for bread, or ploughs, that others may be fed, feels less fatigued than that decreed to him who cannot think or read.
A caveman took a shell, and maybe it had a hole in it, or maybe he put a hole in it, and he put it on a piece of a tail of a donkey or a dinosaur or something and gave it to the cavewoman. She put it around her neck - the first jewel.
A dead cow or sheep lying in a pasture is recognized as carrion. The same sort of a carcass dressed and hung up in a butcher's stall passes as food.