Tombs are the clothes of the dead. A grave is but a plain suit,
and a rich monument is read more

Tombs are the clothes of the dead. A grave is but a plain suit,
and a rich monument is one embroidered.

Marble statues, engraved with public inscriptions, by which the
life and soul return after death to noble leaders.
read more

Marble statues, engraved with public inscriptions, by which the
life and soul return after death to noble leaders.
[Lat., Incisa notis marmora publicis,
Per quae spiritus et vita redit bonis
Post mortem ducibus.]

Soldiers, forty centuries are looking down upon you from these
pyramids.
[Fr., Soldats, du haut ces Pyramide quarante read more

Soldiers, forty centuries are looking down upon you from these
pyramids.
[Fr., Soldats, du haut ces Pyramide quarante siecles vous
contemplent.]

He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
O poor Robinson read more

He made him a hut, wherein he did put
The carcass of Robinson Crusoe.
O poor Robinson Crusoe!

Gold once out of the earth is no more due unto it; what was
unreasonably committed to the ground, read more

Gold once out of the earth is no more due unto it; what was
unreasonably committed to the ground, is reasonably resumed from
it; let monuments and rich fabricks, not riches, adorn men's
ashes.

If we work upon marble it will perish. If we work upon brass
time will efface it. If we read more

If we work upon marble it will perish. If we work upon brass
time will efface it. If we rear temples they will crumble to
dust. But if we work upon men's immortal minds, if we imbue them
with high principles, with the just fear of God and love of their
fellow men, we engrave on those tablets something which no time
can efface, and which will brighten and brighten to all eternity.

He is covered by the heavens who has no sepulchral urn.
[Lat., Coelo tegitur qui non habet urnam.]

He is covered by the heavens who has no sepulchral urn.
[Lat., Coelo tegitur qui non habet urnam.]

You shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common read more

You shall not pile, with servile toil,
Your monuments upon my breast,
Nor yet within the common soil
Lay down the wreck of power to rest,
Where man can boast that he has trod
On him that was "the scourge of God."

Thou, in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a life-long monument.

Thou, in our wonder and astonishment
Hast built thyself a life-long monument.