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Page "Richeza of Lotharingia" ¶ 22
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Her and grave
Her body was thrown into an unmarked grave in the Madeleine cemetery, rue d ' Anjou, ( which was closed the following year ).
Her grave was placed in the chapel dedicated to St. John the Baptist in a classic wooden sarcophagus.
Her grave is marked by a tall white stone inscribed with her school name, not the name by which she was famously known, which reads: " Tomb of Late Mother, Lǐ Yúnhè, 1914 – 1991 " ( 先母李云鹤之墓 , 一九一四年至一九九一年 ).
Her grieving husband, ' bowed down and bleeding under the heaviest sorrows and personal distresses ,' buried her thirty feet from the home they shared and planted a lilac tree next to her grave to remember her.
Her grave was dug by Bres.
Her grave in the cemetery of Saint Benedict's Monastery continues to receive pilgrims.
Her grave can be found in the Riverside Cemetery in Altmar.
Her grave is separate from the others and is the only one dug up.
Her body, covered with an American flag, was then returned to Berlin, where she was interred at the Städtischer Friedhof III, Berlin-Schöneberg, Stubenrauchstraße 43 – 45, in Friedenau Cemetery, near her mother's grave and not far away from the house where she was born.
Her grave can be found outside Eshowe, off the old Empangeni road.
Her ashes were buried in the grave of her mother, Gladys Belzer.
Her grave was demolished however during the French Revolution ( abt.
Her grave – a flamboyant monument – was seen occasionally.
Her grave in Holy Family section, Random Selection, Lot 570, of the Saint Joseph Cemetery ( in Lockbourne, Franklin County, Ohio ) is unmarked.
Her grave is a well-known holy place.
Her grave is marked by a monument with a bust on top ( cast by the Bureau Brothers of Philadelphia ) close to that marking the Battle of Lundy's Lane.
Her true grave and cause of death is unknown.
Her grave was reopened twice in the weeks following the funeral, due to a rumor that her body had been stolen, but the coffin and the body were found to be intact.
Her grave was discovered in 1728 after the castle and the chapel had been left in ruins by the English Civil War.
Her date of death and true grave is unknown.
Her grave was later moved to Evergreen Cemetery in Colorado Springs.
Her grave was unmarked until the relatives of Union Colonel Paul J. Revere, whom she had aided during the war donated a tombstone.
Her grave, beneath the altar steps, was never marked by a monument, so its location was unknown ; probably for this reason, it was the only royal grave in the basilica that was not ransacked during the French Revolution, and it probably remains intact today.

Her and was
Her face was very thin, and burned by the sun until much of the skin was dead and peeling, the new skin under it red and angry.
Her blond hair was frowzy, her dress torn in several places, and her shoes were so completely worn out that they were practically no protection.
Her form was silhouetted and with the strong light I could see the outlines of her body, a body that an artist or anyone else would have admired.
Her mouth, which had been so much in my thoughts, was warm and moist and tender.
Her heart, her maternal feeling, in fact her being was too busy expressing itself, as quietly thrilled by this sight of her Nicolas curled asleep under a blanket, in a park like a scene from Poussin.
Her white blond hair was clean and brushed long straight down to her shoulders.
Her thick hair was the color and texture of charcoal.
Her laugh was hard.
Her face was pale but set and her dark eyes smoldered with blame for Ben.
Her stern was down and a sharp list helped us to cut loose the lifeboat which dropped heavily into the water.
Her name was L'Turu and she told me many things.
( Her account was later confirmed by the Scobee-Frazier Expedition from the University of Manitoba in 1951.
Her mother was a good manager and established a millinery business in Milwaukee.
Her name was Esther Peter.
Her brother Karl was a very gentle soul, her mother was a quiet woman who said little but who had hard, probing eyes.
Her mother, now dead, was my good friend and when she came to tell us about her plans and to show off her ring I had a sobering wish to say something meaningful to her, something her mother would wish said.
Her action was involuntary.
Her name was Mollie.
Her speech was barren of southernisms ; ;
Her quarters were on the right as you walked into the building, and her small front room was clogged with heavy furniture -- a big, round, oak dining table and chairs, a buffet, with a row of unclaimed letters inserted between the mirror and its frame.
Her hair was dyed, and her bloom was fading, and she must have been crowding forty, but she seemed to be one of those women who cling to the manners and graces of a pretty child of eight.
Her voice was ripe and full and her teeth flashed again in Sicilian brilliance before the warm curved lips met and her mouth settled in repose.

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