Subject: Epitaphs

Epitaphs:

Humorous, wry or ironic inscriptions from tombs or graves (or a brief statement commemorating or epitomizing) the memory of a deceased person.

Go away – I’m asleep.

One Errant Female Has Fun – The Ornament of Her Generation – Beautiful. Witty. Brilliant. Talented. Elegant. Charming. Frugal and Modest. – Erected By Herself

Here lies one who never sacrificed his reason to superstitious God, nor ever believed that Jonah swallowed the whale.

"May ye be in heaven an hour before the devil knows you're dead"

Here richly, with ridiculous display, the politician’s corpse was laid away. While all of his acquaintance sneered and slanged, I wept: for I had longed to see him hanged.

Where did everybody go?

Was suddenly killed at early dawn, July 4th, 1842, by the explosion of a small canon, aged 15 years

Looked up the elevator shaft to see if the car was on the way down – it was.

This tombstone is a milestone – Hah! how so? – Because beneath lies Miles – Who's Miles below; – A little man he was, a dwarf in size, – But now stretch’d out, at least Miles long he lies. – His grave though small, contains a space so wide, – It has Miles in breadth, and Miles in length beside.

Here lies Elizabeth, my wife for 47 years, and this is the first damn thing she ever done to oblige me.

Elizabeth McFadden, wife of David P. Read. Died Feb. 28, 1859, in her 47th year. She never done a thing to displeas her husband.

Ope'd my eyes took a peep. Didn't like it went back to sleep.

I started out in life with the idea, that the world had an opening for me. And it did.

Owen Moore, gone away. Owin' more, than he could pay

3.14159265358979323846264338327950288…,

Beneath this smooth stone by the bone of his bone, Sleeps Master John Gill; By lies when alive this attorney did thrive, And now that he's dead he lies still.

Sacred to the remains of Jonathan Thompson. A pious Christian and affectionate husband. His disconsolate widow continues to carry on his grocery business At the old stand on Main Street: Cheapest and best prices in town.

Cast a cold eye on life, on death. Horseman, pass by!

At last, a year-round resident

A thousand ways cut short our days, none are exempt from death. A honey-bee by stinging me did stop my mortal breath.

Here lies Granny Beth Sue Choked to death On Redman Chew