Because that is what such a city is, in the New World, a writer's heaven.

Memory that yearns to join the centre, a limb remembering the body from which it has been severed, like those bamboo thighs of the god.

Because that is what such a city is, in the New World, a writer's heaven.

The sigh of History rises over ruins, not over landscapes, and in the Antilles there are few ruins to sigh over, apart from the ruins of sugar estates and abandoned forts.

A culture, we all know, is made by its cities.

Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean; it comes with the landscape, and faced with its beauty, the sigh of History dissolves.

The English language is nobody's special property. It is the property of the imagination: it is the property of the language itself.

This is Port of Spain to me, a city ideal in its commercial and human proportions, where a citizen is a walker and not a pedestrian, and this is how Athens may have been before it became a cultural echo.

If you know what you are going to write when you're writing a poem, it's going to be average.

We make too much of that long groan which underlines the past.

The personal vocabulary, the individual melody whose metre is one's biography, joins in that sound, with any luck, and the body moves like a walking, a waking island.

Any serious attempt to try to do something worthwhile is ritualistic.

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

Memory that yearns to join the center a limb remembering the body from which it has been severed like those bamboo thighs of the god.

Visual surprise is natural in the Caribbean it comes with the landscape and faced with its beauty the sigh of History dissolves.

Break a vase and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

Rhyme is an attempt to reassemble and reaffirm the possibility of paradise. There is a wholeness, a serenity, in sounds coupling to form a memory.

The truest writers are those who see language not as a linguistic process but as a living element.

The personal vocabulary, the individual melody whose metre is one's biography, joins in that sound, with any luck, and the body moves like a walking, a waking island.

They didn't even like Margaret Thatcher but at least there was Margaret Thatcher. There have been women, you know, Sonia Gandhi for heaven's sakes in India.

To see a world in a grain of sand and heaven in a wild flower Hold infinity in the palms of your hand and eternity in an hour.

In the kingdom of heaven it is His work that will be crowned, not yours. Anything in you that He has not wrought Himself will count for nothing.

One does not need buildings, money, power, or status to practice the Art of Peace. Heaven is right where you are standing, and that is the place to train.

War, in some instances, especially defensive, has been authorized by Heaven.

Mankind is not likely to salvage civilization unless he can evolve a system of good and evil which is independent of heaven and hell.

Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.

Religion kept some of my relatives alive, because it was all they had. If they hadn't had some hope of heaven, some companionship in Jesus, they probably would have committed suicide, their lives were so hellish.

Death and life have their determined appointments; riches and honors depend upon heaven.

I'm terrified about the day that I enter the gates of heaven and God says to me, just a minute.

How well I have learned that there is no fence to sit on between heaven and hell. There is a deep, wide gulf, a chasm, and in that chasm is no place for any man.

Heaven grant us patience with a man in love.

I tell you the truth, it is hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.

Order is heaven's first law.

Do you know that charming part of our country which has been called the garden of France - that spot where, amid verdant plains watered by wide streams, one inhales the purest air of heaven?

But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can send, Save me, oh, save me, from the candid friend!

Nothing is further than earth from heaven, and nothing is nearer than heaven to earth.

I live for those who love me, for those who know me true, for the heaven so blue above me, and the good that I can do.

Heaven lies about us in our infancy and the world begins lying about us pretty soon afterward.

Few nations have been so poor as to have but one god. Gods were made so easily, and the raw material cost so little, that generally the god market was fairly glutted and heaven crammed with these phantoms.

The Vietnamese have a secret weapon. It's their willingness to die beyond our willingness to kill. In effect, they've been saying, You can kill us, but you'll have to kill a lot of us; you may have to kill all of us. And, thank heaven, we are not yet ready to do that.

Woody is the guy who made me want to be a comic. I was in heaven and couldn't stop smiling because he was my idle and 29 years after seeing Take the Money and Run, I was working for him.

Christianity supplies a Hell for the people who disagree with you and a Heaven for your friends.

It is the artist who realizes that there is a supreme force above him and works gladly away as a small apprentice under God's heaven.

To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour.

It came from God, and so is Christ true, and Christ is thy God, who is in heaven and awaits thee.

I believe all drunks go to heaven, because they've been through hell on Earth.

I have watched patients stand and gaze longingly toward the city they in all likelihood will never enter again. It means liberty and life; it seems so near, and yet heaven is not further from hell.

So I did 'Something Happened on the Way to Heaven' and the original version is a ballad. The original Phil record is uptempo but we slowed it down and made it a ballad.

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.