Whoever named Himmel Street certainly had a healthy sense of irony. Not that is was a living hell. It wasn't. But is sure as hell wasn't heaven, either.
He was a philosopher, if you know what that was.’ ‘A man who dreams of fewer things than there are in heaven and earth,’ said the Savage promptly. ‘Quite so…
That feeds anger, and I mean when we went and at last thank heavens got towards peace in Northern Ireland we went for justice within Northern Ireland as well as using security well, as well as a political settlement, but surely that is the lesson.
I have a traditional view of the afterlife... heaven, hell and judgments. But the accounts of those places are scant ,and I believe it's on purpose. We aren't supposed to try to figure out the architecture of the afterlife, since the big game is here...
All bowmen are caught between heaven and earth, born to discovery, choosing to love and raise their eyes high to a future that is apparent only through the strength of their hope.
The little things of life, sweet and excellent in their place, must not be the things lived for; the highest must be sought and followed; the life of heaven must be begun here on earth.
Heaven and Earth are meeting in a storm that, when it's over, will leave the air purer and the leaves fertile, but before that happens, houses will be destroyed, centuries- old trees will topple, paradises will be flooded.
There were good places and bad places to tell stories and there were of course stories that could not be told in any place on earth and these were reserved for heaven.
But virtue, as it never will be moved, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven, So lust, though to a radiant angel linked, Will sate itself in a celestial bed And prey on garbage.
Coffee smells like how I imagine heaven will be scented. Would you like to spend eternity in my nose?
Coffee has a way of waking my soul, much like drinking liquid heaven would.
We could have touched the stars. Instead, you brought them to us. We didn't have to seek the heavens when we had you here with us now.
...and I wonder if there is any way to adequately describe the folly that causes us to undo all the great gifts of both Earth and Heaven.
The lad, like many another, owed nothing to his father but his mere existence—Heaven knows whether that gift is oftenest a curse or a boon.
God speaks of his children shining best in ways that only he can provide. The heavens lift one as a golden child while the flesh lowers one to a child with gold.
Oh, if only I could hurt with such misery once again, to feel the powers of love here inside my heart, the joys of heaven and the pains of hell!
For those who sense and comprehend, They know that heaven is at hand; The river blue which stream and stream, It has the pictures of my dream.
That was a matter suspended between heaven and earth, awaiting the hand of destiny.
Only in a place like this do earth and sky come together in such a way that they bridge into one, and in such a place a person could put up her arms and find herself in heaven.
Now the windows, blinded by the glare of the empty square, had fallen asleep. The balconies declared their emptiness to heaven; the open doorways smelt of coolness and wine.
If Heaven and angels exist in a timeless medium we call Forever ("Hey, nobody here but us angels!") ... Then ... ues what? ... There will be no end of me!
