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Paradise is too perfect for humanity.

There is a kind of serenity in love which is almost a paradise.

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

If you can visualize the whole of spring and see Paradise with the eye of belief, you may understand the utter majesty of everlasting Beauty. If you respond to that Beauty with the beauty of belief and worship, you will be a most beautiful creature.

Hell is where everyone is doing his own thing. Paradise is where everyone is doing God's thing.

Home is the dearest spot on earth, and it should be the centre, but not the boundary, of the affections.

The true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground.

The heart of man is, so to speak, the paradise of God.

By aiming for paradise, we lose sight of earth. Hope of a beyond and aspiration to an afterlife engender a sense of futility in the present. If the prospect of getting taken up to paradise generates joy, it is the mindless joy of a baby picked up from his crib.