|Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyts New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922.|
|In the nine heavens are eight Paradises;|
Where is the ninth one? In the human breast.
Only the blessed dwell in th Paradises,
But blessedness dwells in the human breast.
Wm. R. AlgerOriental Poetry. The Ninth Paradise.
|Or were I in the wildest waste,|
Sae bleak and bare, sae bleak and bare,
The desert were a paradise
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
BurnsOh! Wert Thou in the Cold Blast.
|In this fools paradise, he drank delight.|
CrabbeThe Borough Players. Letter XII.
|Nor count compartments of the floors,|
But mount to paradise
By the stairway of surprise.
|Unto you is paradise opened.|
II Esdras. VIII. 52.
|The meanest floweret of the vale,|
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are open paradise.
GrayOde on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitudes. L. 53.
|Dry your eyesO dry your eyes,|
For I was taught in Paradise
To ease my breast of melodies.
| Mahomet was taking his afternoon nap in his Paradise. An houri had rolled a cloud under his head, and he was snoring serenely near the fountain of Salsabil.|
Ernest LEpineCroquemitaine. Bk. II Ch. IX. Hoods trans.
|A limbo large and broad, since calld|
The Paradise of Fools to few unknown.
MiltonParadise Lost. Bk. III. L. 495.
|So on he fares, and to the border comes,|
Of Eden, where delicious Paradise,
Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green,
As with a rural mound, the champain head
Of a steep wilderness.
MiltonParadise Lost. Bk. IV. L. 131.
|One morn a Peri at the gate|
Of Eden stood disconsolate.
MooreLalla Rookh. Paradise and the Peri.
|A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,|
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Breadand Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!
Omar KhayyamRubaiyat, St. 12. FitzGeralds trans.
|The loves that meet in Paradise shall cast out fear,|
And Paradise hath room for you and me and all.
Christina G. RossettiSaints and Angels. St. 10.
|There is no expeditious road|
To pack and label men for God,
And save them by the barrel-load.
Some may perchance, with strange surprise,
Have blundered into Paradise.
Francis ThompsonEpilogue. St. 2.