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There is no humor in heaven. Let us swear while we may, for in Heaven it will not be allowed. Dying man couldn't make up his mind which place to go to -- both have
their advantages, "heaven for climate, hell for company!" Travel has no longer any charm for me. I have seen all the foreign countries
I want to except heaven & hell & I have only a vague curiosity
about one of those. When I reflect upon the number of disagreeable people who I know have
gone to better world, I am moved to lead a different life. We may not doubt that society in heaven consists mainly of undesirable
persons. Bermuda: I said it was like being in Heaven. The Reverend rebukingly
and rather pointedly advised me to make the most of it then. |
 Angel illustration by True Williams from THE SOWER |
Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog
would go in.
- Mark Twain, a Biography
Singing hymns and waving palm branches through all eternity is pretty when you
hear about it in the pulpit, but it's as poor a way to put in valuable time
as a body could contrive.
- Captain Stormfield's Visit to Heaven
It is easy to see that the inventor of the heaven did not originate the idea,
but copied it from the show-ceremonies of some sorry little sovereign State
up in the back settlements of the Orient somewhere.
- Letters from the Earth
The inventor of their heaven empties into it all the nations of the earth, in
one common jumble. All are on an equality absolute, no one of them ranking another;
they have to be "brothers"; they have to mix together, pray together,
harp together, hosannah together--whites, niggers, Jews, everybody--there's
no distinction. Here in the earth all nations hate each other, and every one
of them hates the Jew. Yet every pious person adores that heaven and wants to
get into it. He really does. And when he is in a holy rapture he thinks he thinks
that if he were only there he would take all the populace to his heart, and
hug, and hug, and hug!
- Letters from the Earth
It would be a wonderful experience to stand there in those enchanted surroundings
and hear Shakespeare and Milton and Bunyan read from their noble works. And
it might be that they would like to hear me read some of my things. No, it could
never be; they would not care for me. They would not know me, they would not
understand me, and they would say they had an engagement. But if I could only
be there, and walk about and look, and listen, I should be satisfied and not
make a noise. My life is fading to its close, and someday I shall know.
- unpublished book review of The Cities of the Sun by George Warder (1901)
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