The starry vault of heaven is in truth the open book of cosmic projection...
I settled at Cold Mountain long ago,
Already it seems like years and years.
Freely drifting, I prowl the woods and streams
And linger watching things themselves.
Men don't get this far into the mountains,
White clouds gather and billow.
Thin grass does for a mattress,
The blue sky makes a good quilt.
Happy with a stone under head,
Let heaven and earth go about their changes.
For singing till his heaven fills,
Tis love of earth that he instills,
And ever winging up and up,
Our valley is his golden cup,
And he the wine which over flows
To lift us with him as he goes.
We hear of the conversion of water into wine at the marriage in Cana as of a miracle. But this conversion is, through the goodness of God, made every day before our eyes. Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards, and which incorporates itself with the grapes, to be changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves us, and loves to see us happy.
If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven, And dressed myself in such humility That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths Even in the presence of the crowned king.
A church is a place in which gentlemen who have never been to heaven brag about it to persons who will never get there.
Heaven and hell suppose two distinct species of men, the good and the bad. But the greatest part of mankind float betwixt vice and virtue.
Rumor, than which no evil flies more swiftly. She flourishes as she flies, gains strength by mere motion. Small at first and in fear, she soon rises to heaven, Walks upon land and hides her head in the clouds.
Whenever cannibals are on the brink of starvation, Heaven, in its infinite mercy, sends them a nice plump missionary.
My father, now in heaven, is a keeper of the birds. And his eye is on his sparrow
No one is worthy of a good home here or in heaven that is not willing to be in peril for a good cause.
Seeking Heaven through righteousness is not seeking righteousness, but something else;--it is not loving goodness for goodness' sake, but for its rewards.
I'm fighting so I can die a martyr and go to heaven to meet God. Our fight now is against the Americans.
The life of the husbandman,--a life led by the bounty of earth and sweetened by the airs of heaven.
Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.
Each bud flowers but once and each flower has but its minute of perfect beauty; so, in the garden of the soul each feeling has, as it were, its flowering instant, its one and only moment of expansive grace and radiant kingship. Each star passes but once in the night through the meridian over our heads and shines there but an instant; so, in the heaven of the mind each thought touches its zenith but once, and in that moment all its brilliancy and all its greatness culminate. Artist, poet, or thinker, if you want to fix and immortalize your ideas or your feelings, seize them at this precise and fleeting moment, for it is their highest point. Before it, you have but vague outlines or dim presentiments of them. After it you will have only weakened reminiscence or powerless regret; that moment is the moment of your ideal.
There is a woman who spent her life loving that evil creature: she died. I'm sure she's a saint in heaven right now. You are going to kill me the way he killed that woman.That is what's in store for all of us who have unselfish hearts.
When someone dies, an angel is there to meet them at the gates of Heaven to let them know that their life has just begun.
Each prayer is more beautiful than the others. I cannot recite them all and not knowing which to choose, I do like children who do not know how to read, I say very simply to God what I wish to say, without composing beautiful sentences, and He always understands me. For me, prayer is an aspiration of the heart, it is a simple glance directed to heaven, it is something great, supernatural, which expands my soul and unites me to Jesus.
Fear is the needle that pierces us that it may carry a thread to bind us to heaven.
Drunkards are doomed to hell, so men declare, Believe it not, 'tis but a foolish scare; Heaven will be empty as this hand of mine, If none who love good drink find entrance there
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of fate.
Humility is eldest-born of Virtue, and claims the birthright at the throne of heaven.