“All places shall be hell that are not heaven.”

Religion! O Diabole! Fie, I am asham’d, however that I seem, To think a word of such simple sound, Of such great matter should be made the ground.

Fools that will laugh on earth, most weep in hell.

Strike up the drum and march courageously.

Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.

Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?

O soul, be changed into little waterdrops, / And fall into the ocean, ne’er be found!

Why should you love him whom the world hates so? Because he love me more than all the world.

Nothing violent, oft have I heard tell, can be permanent.

The griefs of private men are soon allayed, But not of kings.

It is a comfort to the miserable to have comrades in misfortune, but it is a poor comfort after all.

Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.

More childish valorous than manly wise.

Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.

He must have a long spoon that eats with the devil.

Virtue is the fount whence honour springs.

Infinite riches in a little room.

My mission in heaven will be to draw souls, helping them to go out of themselves to cling to God, with a spontaneous, love-filled action, and to keep them in that great interior silence which enables God to make his mark on them, to transform them into himself.

My home is in Heaven. I’m just traveling through this world.

Every step of the way to heaven is heaven.

The love that made Him to suffer passeth as far all His pains as Heaven is above Earth.

Look up here, I’m in heaven.

There ain’t been no angels in heaven around since God invented girls.

Heaven… I’m in heaven, and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak.

Heaven help the roses if the bombs begin to fall.