The grave is a place of finality, a place where the physical body is laid to rest and the soul is said to move on to an afterlife. It is a place that holds great significance in many cultures and religions, and is often seen as a symbol of the end of one's earthly existence.
For many people, the grave is a place of sadness and grief, as it marks the loss of a loved one. It is a place where people come to pay their respects, to say goodbye, and to remember the person who has passed away. Often, graves are adorned with flowers, wreaths, or other tokens of love and respect, as a way of honoring the memory of the deceased.
In some cultures, the grave is seen as a place of mystery and mystery, as it is believed to be the gateway to the afterlife. Many people believe that the grave is a place where the soul passes through on its journey to the other side, and that the body is simply a vessel that houses the soul during its time on earth.
Despite its associations with death and loss, the grave can also be seen as a place of hope and renewal. For many people, the grave is a place where they can find solace and comfort in the knowledge that their loved one is now at peace. It is a place where they can take time to reflect on the life that was lived, and to find meaning and purpose in the memories that remain.
In conclusion, the grave is a place that holds great significance for many people around the world. It is a place of sadness and grief, but also a place of hope and renewal. It is a place where we can find comfort and solace in the knowledge that our loved ones are at peace, and where we can find meaning and purpose in the memories that remain. So, the grave is not only a place of death, but also a place of hope and new beginnings.
The Grave by Katherine Anne Porter
I've heard that souls departed have sometimes Forewarn'd men of their death:—'twas kindly done To knock, and give the alarm. They have placed themselves in grave danger. They seemed simply disorderly and unaccountably rude in their habits, but altogether natural and not very interesting. To improve those charms and keep them in repair, For which the spoiler thanks thee not. The brothers are told by a fellow inmate, Wex, about a local legend of a large undetermined fortune hidden in the grave of Masterson, a legendary local millionaire. Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms, Coeval near with that, all ragged show, Long lash'd by the rude winds: some rift half down Their branchless trunks; others so thin at top, That scarce two crows could lodge in the same tree. Here the warm lover, leaving the cool shade, The tell-tale echo, and the babbling stream Time out of mind the favourite seats of love , Fast by his gentle mistress lays him down, Unblasted by foul tongue.
For this, was all thy caution? What but a spacious burial-field unwall'd, Strew'd with death's spoils, the spoils of animals Savage and tame, and full of dead men's bones! I have grave doubts about this plan. She looked and looked—excited but not frightened, for she was accustomed to the sight of animals killed in hunting—filled with pity and astonishment and a kind of shocked delight in the wonderful little creatures for their own sakes, they were so pretty. An Indian vendor had held up before her a tray of dyed-sugar sweets, shaped like all kinds of small creatures: birds, baby chicks, baby rabbits, lambs, baby pigs. Sin has laid waste, Not here and there a country, but a world: Despatching, at a wide-extended blow, Entire mankind; and for their sakes defacing A whole creation's beauty with rude hands; Blasting the foodful grain, the loaded branches; And marking all along its way with ruin. Old West lawman Conny Miller visits the grave of a man who he failed to track down to prove he was never afraid of him but gets more than he bargained for.
Sound was the body, and the soul serene; Like two sweet instruments, ne'er out of tune, That play their several parts. The very memory of her former ignorance faded, she had always known just this. Arabia's gums and odoriferous drugs, And honours by the heralds duly paid In mode and form even to a very scruple: Oh, cruel irony! While not a clean getaway, the brothers successfully break out of the jail. Pliant and powerless now, Like new-born infant wound up in his swathes, Or victim tumbled flat upon its back, That throbs beneath the sacrificer's knife. Until this day, she had remembered the episode only vaguely as the time she and Paul had found treasure in the opened graves.
Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well, And leave as keen a relish on the sense. She thought about the whole worrisome affair with confused unhappiness for a few days. She tells them that urban legend was that Masterson as an elderly man had married a very young woman, Ophelia, hoping for an heir, but found she was infertile, and that they bought a child to raise instead, who was never heard from after both their deaths. The Twilight Zone: Unlocking the Door to a Television Classic. Death's thousand doors stand open. Here, too, the petty tyrant, Whose scant domains geographer ne'er noticed, And, well for neighbouring grounds, of arm as short; Who fix'd his iron talons on the poor, And gripp'd them like some lordly beast of prey; Deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing hunger, And piteous, plaintive voice of misery As if a slave was not a shred of nature, Of the same common nature with his lord ; Now tame and humble, like a child that's whipp'd, Shakes hands with dust, and calls the worm his kinsman; Nor pleads his rank and birthright: Under ground Precedency's a jest; vassal and lord, Grossly familiar, side by side consume.
He goes to the saloon where the men who hired him are gathered and is angry to learn that they had dispatched Sykes themselves. She had been brought up in rigorous economy. It is not time for us to judge. So have I seen, upon a summer's even, Fast by the rivulet's brink a youngster play: How wishfully he looks to stem the tide! Where the hotbrain'd youth, Who the tiara at his pleasure tore From kings of all the then discover'd globe, And cried, forsooth, because his arm was hamper'd, And had not room enough to do its work? She was nine years old and he wastwelve. Twice twenty days he sojourn'd here on earth, And show'd himself alive to chosen witnesses, By proofs so strong, that the most slow-assenting Had not a scruple left.
Again the screech-owl shrieks: ungracious sound! Verse 14 describes that Job will wait for the duration of his life in service and labor until his death and appointed time of resurrection. When self-esteem, or others' adulation, Would cunningly persuade us we are something Above the common level of our kind, The Grave gainsays the smooth-complexion'd flattery, And with blunt truth acquaints us what we are. Its religious subject no doubt contributed to its great popularity, especially in Scotland; but the vogue it attained was justified by its picturesque imagery and occasional felicity of expression. Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew, Cheerless, unsocial plant! An earthquake in northern Israel reveals a pit in the ground, and in it are three skeletons. The graves were lying open and empty one burning day when Miranda and her brother Paul, who often went together to hunt rabbits and doves, propped their twenty-two Winchester rifles carefully against the rail fence, climbed over and explored among the graves.
The children knelt facing each other over the dead animal. Also, reason this: the Bible teaches that we either live forever or die forever Deuteronomy 30:19. She was so reasonlessly horrified she halted suddenly staring, the scene before her eyes dimmed by the vision back of them. Here the lank-sided miser, worst of felons, Who meanly stole discreditable shift! No frenzy half so desperate as this. She hardly ever hit any sort of mark.
Methinks I see thee with thy head low laid, Whilst, surfeited upon thy damask cheek, The high-fed worm, in lazy volumes roll'd, Riots unscared. The labour of whole ages tumbles down, A hideous and mis-shapen length of ruins. She had seen him smash his hat and yell with fury when he had missed his aim. In the panic of assaulting their friend, Travis ostensibly takes King's pulse and determines he is dead, and puts him in Masterson's grave. Nor hill nor vale, as far as ship could go, Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook, Escaped thy rifling hand;—from stubborn shrubs Thou wrung'st their shy retiring virtues out, And vex'd them in the fire: nor fly, nor insect, Nor writhy snake, escaped thy deep research.
It is deduced that whatever fortune Masterson hid is in Ophelia's grave. She had no proper sense of hunting at all. Our time is fix'd; and all our days are number'd; How long, how short, we know not:—this we know, Duty requires we calmly wait the summons, Nor dare to stir till Heaven shall give permission: Like sentries that must keep their destined stand, And wait the appointed hour, till they're relieved. Prone on the lowly grave of the dear man She drops; whilst busy meddling memory, In barbarous succession, musters up The past endearments of their softer hours, Tenacious of its theme. The boy takes the dare, states he will stick a knife in the grave to prove he was there, and then proceeds to meet the same fate that night. Where the droll, Whose every look and gesture was a joke To clapping theatres and shouting crowds, And made even thick-lipp'd musing melancholy To gather up her face into a smile Before she was aware? When they unearth Masterson's coffin again, King is miraculously still alive, albeit woozy. We know, The illustrious Deliverer of mankind, The Son of God, thee foil'd.
