Quotes about Paradise

Terrorists who blow themselves up believing that they will receive a martyr's reward in paradise (100 virgins to make love to for eternity) actually get that. Unfortunately for them, not one of the virgins is a day under 95 years old.

There is no life I know to compare with pure imagination. Living there, you'll be free if you truly wish to be. If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it. Anything you want to, do it. Want to change the world? There's nothing to it.

What is more Paradise than a single, clear obstacle worth overcoming?

Moments come when we feel outside time, seized by a longing, moved by an image, in touch with invisible voices. We realize that we do not live in one world only. As Rilke says, "we are grasped by what we cannot grasp..." Something beyond life lives within life and calls the soul... Repair of the soul ("the damage I have done to myself," as Kabir says) and focus on the job at hand are only half; a man has metaphysical tasks, too. Unless his spirit ventures toward the invisible, a man will be unable to perform the daily round with purpose. He will have little joy, only duty--and rebelliousness. The deepest cause of our discontent and our confused yearnings is the loss of Paradise. The human soul needs anchoring in something beyond itself, in that vision which is the ground of all initiations, a vision which hints that life on earth reflects ideals of perfection.

Look around you at the gifts of God, the clear sky, the pure air, the tender grass, the birds; nature is beautiful and sinless, and we, only we, are godless and foolish, and we don't understand that life is a paradise, for we have only to understand that and it will at once be fulfilled in all its beauty, we shall embrace each other and weep.

The kingdom of heaven is spread out across the earth, only people don't see it.

Lost between two worlds. One lies dying. The other crying to be born. Lost between two worlds. Paradise's promise and hell fire's scorn.

Paradise is surrounded by what we dislike; the fires of hell are surrounded by what we desire.

Hold on to the center and make up your mind to rejoice in this paradise called life.

TAKING THE FIRST FOOTSTEP with a good thought, the second with a good word, and the third with a good deed, I entered paradise.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This prescious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England . . .

Cultivate the garden within. What was Paradise? but a garden, an orchard of trees and herbs, full of pleasure and nothing there but delights.

What was paradise? But a garden, an orchard of trees and herbs. Full of pleasure, and nothing there but delights.

Same old slippers, Same old rice, Same old glimpse of Paradise.

The machine can free man or enslave him; it can make of this world something resembling a paradise or a purgatory. Men have it within their power to achieve a security hitherto dreamed of only by the philosophers, or they may go the way of the dinosaurs, actually disappearing from the earth because they fail to develop the social and political intelligence to adjust to the world which their mechanical intelligence has created.

Mutual forgiveness of each vice. Such are the Gates of Paradise.

Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Paradise, because of impatience we cannot return.

Paradise is where I am.

Paradise was made for tender hearts; hell, for loveless hearts.

Let every Christian be a gardener so that he and she and the whole of creation, which groans in expectation of the Spirit's final harvest, may inherit Paradise. If we Christian's truly treasure the hope that one day we, like Adam and the penitent thief, will walk alongside the One who caused even the dead wood of the Cross to blossom with flowers, then we must also imitate the Master's art and make the desolate earth grow green.

An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise.

As Joseph Was A-Walking As Joseph was a-walking He heard Angels sing, "This night shall be born Our Heavenly King. "He neither shall be born In house nor in hall, Nor in the place of paradise, But in an ox-stall. "He shall not be clothed In purple nor pall; But all in fair linen, As wear babies all. "He shall not be rocked In silver nor gold, But in a wooden cradle That rocks on the mould. "He neither shall be christened In milk nor in wine, But in pure spring-well water Fresh spring from Bethine." Mary took her baby, She dressed Him so sweet, She laid Him in a manger, All there for to sleep. As she stood over Him She heard Angels sing, "Oh, bless our dear Saviour Our Heavenly King!"

Terrorism [is] a biological consequence of the multinationals, just as a day of fever is the reasonable price of an effective vaccine . . . The conflict is between great powers, not between demons and heroes. Unhappily, therefore, is the nation that finds the "heroes" underfoot, especially if they still think in religious terms and involve the population in their bloody ascent to an uninhabited paradise.

The pleasures of love are pains that become desirable, where sweetness and torment blend, and so love is voluntary insanity, infernal paradise, and celestial hell - in short, harmony of opposite yearnings, sorrowful laughter, soft diamond.

A Child This Day Is Born A child this day is born, A child of high renown, Most worthy of a sceptre, A sceptre and a crown: Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, Nowell, sing all we may, Because the King of all kings Was born this blessed day. These tidings shepherds heard, In field watching their fold, Were by an angel unto them That night revealed and told: To whom the angel spoke, Saying, "Be not afraid; Be glad, poor silly* shepherds- Why are you so dismayed? "For lo! I bring you tidings Of gladness and of mirth, Which cometh to all people by This holy infant's birth": Then there was with the angel A host incontinent† Of heavenly bright soldiers, Which from the Highest was sent: Lauding the Lord our God, And His celestial King; All glory be in Paradise, This heavenly host did sing: And as the angels told them, So to them did appear; They found the young child, Jesus Christ, With Mary, His mother dear. *Simple. †Innumerable.

We may have to learn again the mystery of the garden: how its external characteristics model the heart itself, and how the soul is a garden enclosed, our own perpetual paradise where we can be refreshed and restored.

The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry, of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the point as clear as possible: The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden. If you don't want paradise, you are not human; and if you are not human, you don't have a soul.

I suppose what makes me most glad is that we all recognize each other in this metaphysical space of silence and happening, and get some sense, for a moment, that we are full of paradise without knowing it.

To each his suff'rings; all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan,- The tender for another's pain, Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah! why should they know their fate, Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies? Thought would destroy their paradise. No more; where ignorance is bliss, 'T is folly to be wise.

The meanest floweret of the vale, The simplest note that swells the gale, The common sun, the air, the skies, To him are opening paradise.