Unable are the loved to die,

For love is immortality- Emily Dickinson (abridged)

For last year's words belong to last year's language,

And next year's words await a new voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning. - T.S. Elliot, "Little Gidding"

Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er fraught heart and bids it break. - William Shakespeare, "Macbeth" Act 4 Scene 3

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave.

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;

Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.

I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned. Excerpt from Dirge without Music by Edna Vincent Millay

Cemetery photographer since 1989.

Photos are my own. Creative Commons negotiable.