What's your favorite epitaph?

In My Humble Opinion
21

Actually, my favorite epigraph isn’t in words, but in a picture. It’s that of Simon Stevin BRUGGHELINCK (“Stevinus”), who managed to get an illustration of one of his proofs on his tombstone:

http://home.planet.nl/~hopfam/Devreese.html

(Actually, I’ve never seen a photo of the tombstone, so I hope this isn’t another Urban Legend)

22

I am ready to meet my Maker.

Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordealof meeting me is another matter.

Winston Churchill (1874-1965)

23

Nuts - beat me to it.

Already in Use, we’re showing our age.

24

Two favorites, at the moment—

Tandem Felix (“Happy at Last”)

From Gustavus III, King of Sweden, and

Emperor of the United States
and
Protector of Mexico

25

There are some prime reply’s here.

[QUOTE=Airman Doors, USAF]
Here lies Lester Moore
Four slugs from a .44
No Les no more

I like this one. Dark and gritty. If I didn’t know better I’d swear it was straight out of a campy noir novel/flicker show.

Hah. Me and my mom both got a laugh out of this :slight_smile: .

This thread has got me thinking: maybe I should check out some Edgar Allen Poe poems.

26

Not dead yet but this is what he claims he would like:

“Don’t bother me. I’m skating.”

-Bam Margera

I thought it was kinda cool.

27

Here are a few of my favorites…
John Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell,
A carrier who carried his can to his mouth well;
He carried so much, and he carried so fast,
He could carry no more - so was carried at last;
For the liquor he drank, being too much for one,
He could not carry off - so he’s now carri-on.
~written by Lord Byron

Posterity will ne’er survey,
A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh:
Stop, traveller, and piss.

~written by Lord Byron

And humbly I submit what I have written to place on my own stone…

This stone of gravel, rock, and clay,
Above a bed of grass doth lay,
To mark the final resting place,
Of long ago forgotten face.
It bears no name, nor ever will,
It sits here, silent, cold and still,
Remembered here, this pile of bone,
By place and memory alone.
For if this man is long forgot,
He’d much prefer this as his lot,
And never bother living kin,
With troubled memories of him.
And if recalled, who needs a name?
When one has love, or fear, or fame?
So sign me not upon this stone,
Be I remembered, or alone.