So you have come to look over your final resting place?
Yea?...
Did you ever notice the little round stones behind the big square tombstones?
Don't tell this to anyone, but they're really the marbles the occupants of the graves play with while away the tedious hours they have to spend on their grounds among the living, when night falls and the grim, tired overseers retire to their potato-soups and dank beds.
I keep thinking of those fatuous people who defy the angel Gabriel by instructing their heirs to burn their remains and scatter the ashes of their flesh and bones to the four winds. Personal immortality is a foolish enough and unreasonable enough assumption to go on. But to fight it so hard, and with such violent maneuvers, is not that even more unreasonable?
I thing I see what you are hinting at.
