Quotes About Paradise

In this way, without understanding how, I entered sleep together with Christ's passion and the nightingales' warbling, just as the soul will enter Paradise.

I think of the separation between life and paradise as a river. If there are many bridges that cross the river, should it be of great concern to God which bridge the traveler chooses - Mirdin

Vejo a separação entre a vida e o paraíso como um rio. Se muitas pontes cruzam o rio, será que Deus se importa qual delas escolheremos?

Creo que la separación entre la vida y el Paraíso es un río —dijo Mirdin—. Si hay muchos puentes que lo cruzan, ¿puede importarle mucho a Dios qué puente elige el viajero?

As a young man he had not dared risk God's wrath by questioning His purpose. Now he did not give a damn. Fuck it. There was no Paradise and there was no Hell and if there was a God, He was worse than inscrutable. What did exist was the cold, cruel truth of a young man, dead—from cancer or a car accident or suicide or God knows what—at the obscene age of thirty-two.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

What makes the earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it ought to feel like Heaven.

Even the garden of Eden was just a big fancy cage," Adam says. "You'll be a slave the rest of your life unless you bite the apple.

Anche il giardino dell'Eden non era nient'altro che una grande gabbia di lusso dice Adam. Resterai uno schiavo per il resto della tua vita, a meno che tu non morda la mela.

Even the garden of Eden was just a big fancy cage...You'll be a slave the rest of your life unless you bite the apple.

Paradise is precarious. Just one little thing …" He mimes a little shove. "Can push it into imbalance. It didn't take much to screw up the Garden of Eden.

One of your functions as a pleasure sub is to provide sexual satisfaction upon the request of any Dominant who requires your services. Remember, this isn't about your sexual gratification. It's about obeying the desires and needs of the Masters and Mistresses who have invited you into their private paradise. That's all you need to hold on to—that you serve at our pleasure. That service in and of itself should be enough for the true submissive.

Walk with care in dark places, and do not put your faith in anyone who promises you the forgiveness of the Lord or a certain place in Paradise.

If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke — Aye, and what then? —S. T. Coleridge, Anima Poetae

If a man could pass through Paradise in a dream, and have a flower presented to him as a pledge that his soul had really been there, and if he found that flower in his hand when he awoke Ã¢â'¬â€œ Aye, and what then?' S. T. Coleridge Anima Poetae

And in time it will be as though men had never come to this perfect corner of the world—never called it paradise on earth, never despoiled it with their dream factories; and in the golden hush of the afternoon all that will be heard will be the flittering of dragonflies, and the murmur of hummingbirds as they pass from bower to bower, looking for a place to sup sweetness.

A true gardener would never pretend that gardening is all pleasure, or that it always prompts reflection. But she might claim that in the garden she has tasted Paradise.

Henry Mitchell, in his book One Man's Garden, observes that it is not important for a garden to be beautiful in everyone's eyes. But it is extremely important for the gardener to think it is a fair substitute for Eden. Perhaps this is an overstatement, or perhaps it is a theological truth.

Talvolta penso che il paradiso sia leggere continuamente, senza fine.

Despite our tiffs, despite her nastiness, despite all the fuss and faces she made, and the vulgarity, and the danger, and the horrible hopelessness of it all, I still dwelled deep in my elected paradise - a paradise whose skies were the color of hell-flames - but still a paradise.

Doom is nigh. I am in acute distress, desperately trying to coax sleep, opening my eyes every few seconds to check their faded gleam, and imagining paradise as a place where a sleepless neighbor reads an endless book by the light of an eternal candle.

Your voice, through the beelike hum, was remote and anxious. It kept sliding into the distance and vanishing. I spoke to you with tightly shut eyes, and felt like crying. My love for you was the throbbing, welling warmth of tears. That is exactly how I imagined paradise: silence and tears, and the warm silk of your knees. This you could not comprehend.

Yo me empecinaba en mi paraíso escogido: Un paraíso cuyos cielos tenían el color de las llamas infernales, pero con todo un paraiso

A wonderful point in favor of some kind of hereafter is this: When the mind rejects as childishly absurd a paradise with musical angels or abstract colonnades with Horace and Milton in togas conversing and walking together through the eternal twilight, or the protracted voluptas of the orient or any other eternity -- such as the one with devils and porcupines -- we forget that if we could have imagined life before living it would have seemed more improbable than all our hereafters