Cenotaph Quotes

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again. (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

George Fentiman: What's the damn good of it, Wimsey? A man goes and fights for his country, gets his inside gassed out, and loses his job, and all they give him is the privilege of marching past the Cenotaph once a year and paying four shillings in the pound income-tax.

Dorothy L. Sayers

On June 8th there was a little conference in London, and the French and Germans laid their colours on our Cenotaph. When men can do that there should be no more fighting.

Stanley Baldwin

Think of the glory. Think of your reputation. Think how great it'll look on your next resume.” "On my cenotaph, you mean. Nobody will be able to collect enough of my scattered atoms to bury. You're going to cover my funeral expenses, son?” "Splendidly. Banners, dancing girls, and enough beer to float your coffin to Valhalla.” Tung sighed. "Make it plum wine to float the boat, eh? Drink the beer.

Lois McMaster Bujold

I have no doubt in my own mind that many of the troubles of this world are due to the fact that we have lost our best, and so many of our best, who to-day would be among our leaders. I am confident of this: that if the dead could come back to life to-day there would be no war. They would never let the younger generation taste what they did. You have all tasted that bitter cup of war. They drank it to the dregs, and even after all these years the dead are doing their work. Within the last few months, for the first time, the French, Germans and ourselves united to preserve the burying places of our dead. On June 8th there was a little conference in London, and the French and Germans laid their colours on our Cenotaph. When men can do that there should be no more fighting.

Stanley Baldwin

For after the rain when with never a stain The pavilion of Heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.

Percy Bysshe Shelley