See You Again In Heaven Quotes & Sayings

Jesus Christ is always there for you. He longs to aid you, He longs to be by your side, to help you through your struggles, to heal your aching heart and to mend your broken soul. He's standing there with His arms outstretched, waiting for you to come to Him so that He can comfort you and guide you and help you through the changes you may be experiencing. Change may be scary, but it can be a great thing. Christ and His Atonement have helped the blind to see, the deaf to hear, the lame to walk, the dead to live again, and the sinner to repent. Because of His love for us, we have a way to be cleansed and to change our hearts and our souls. As we strive to align our goals and desires with the principles of the Gospel, we will grow closer to our Father in Heaven and will understand more and more how we can live with Him again. — Jayda Skidmore

Nowadays almost all man's improvements, so called, as the building of houses, and the cutting down of the forest and of all large trees, simply deform the landscape, and make it more tame and cheap ... and some worldly miser with a surveyor looking after his bounds, while heaven had taken place around him, and he did not see the angles going to and fro, but was looking for an old post-hole in the midst of paradise. I looked again, and saw him standing in the middle of a boggy, stygian, fen, surrounded by devils, and he had found his bounds without a doubt, three little stones, where a stake had been driven, and looking nearer, I saw that the prince of Darkness was his surveyor. — Henry David Thoreau

Do not write. I am sad, and want my light put out.
Summers in your absence are as dark as a room.
I have closed my arms again. They must do without.
To knock at my heart is like knocking at a tomb.
Do not write!
Do not write. Let us learn to die, as best we may.
Did I love you? Ask God. Ask yourself. Do you know?
To hear that you love me, when you are far away,
Is like hearing from heaven and never to go.
Do not write!
Do not write. I fear you. I fear to remember,
For memory holds the voice I have often heard.
To the one who cannot drink, do not show water,
The beloved one's picture in the handwritten word.
Do not write!
Do not write those gentle words that I dare not see,
It seems that your voice is spreading them on my heart,
Across your smile, on fire, they appear to me,
It seems that a kiss is printing them on my heart.
Do not write! — Louis Simpson

My sweetest Lesbia, let us live and love, And though the sager sort our deeds reprove, Let us not weigh them. Heaven's great lamps do dive Into their west, and straight again revive, But soon as once set is our little light, Then must we sleep one ever-during night. See Catullus 200:5. — Thomas Campion

Alas ! How few of Nature's faces are left alone to gladden us with their beauty ! The cares, and sorrows, and the hungerings, of the world, change them as they change hearts; and it is only when those passions sleep, and have lost their hold for ever, that the troubled clouds pass off, and leave Heaven's surface clear. It is a common thing for the countenances of the dead, even in that fixed and rigid state, to subside into the long-forgotten expression of sleeping infancy, and settle into the very look of early life; so calm, so peaceful, do they grow again, that those who knew them in their happy childhood, kneel by the coffin's side in awe, and see the Angel even upon earth. — Charles Dickens

He would dream waking dreams about Jesus, gloriously childlike. He fancied he came down every now and then to see how things were going in the lower part of his kingdom; and that when he did so, he made use of Glashgar and its rocks for his stair, coming down its granite scale in the morning, and again, when he had ended his visit, going up in the evening by the same steps. Then high and fast would his heart beat at the thought that some day he might come upon his path just when he had passed, see the heather lifting its head from the trail of his garment, or more slowly out of the prints left by his feet, as he walked up the stairs of heaven, going back to his Father. Sometimes, when a sheep stopped feeding and looked up suddenly, he would fancy that Jesus had laid his hand on its head, and was now telling it that it must not mind being killed; for he had been killed, and it was all right. — George MacDonald

Well, you have to accept this.Check it out.You know how when someone dies, people are all sad and stuff?"
"Yeah?"
"Well,why are they sad?"
His face scrunched up quizzically and then brightened.
"Because they won't be able to see their loved ones again. They'll miss them."
"No!" she shouted, suddenly standing and pacing like a detective delivering the evidence to a room full of suspects.
"It's because they have to rely on faith that they will see that person again in heaven or ... "
Her eyes drifted toward the sky.
"Wherever. When someone close to you dies, your faith is at its shakiest. Even if you're an atheist."
He cocked his head to the side,"How do you figure?"
"It just happens. Death causes people to reevaluate their beliefs. It brings up questions you don't want to ask;it creates anxiety. — Daniel Marks

Dance, dance for me
Dance with the stars
Laugh, laugh for me
Wherever you are

Sing, sing out loud
Like angels do
Remember me
The way I'll remember you

Love, love for me
With all your soul
Cry, cry for me
As I grow old

See, see me from the edge of Heaven's eye
Feel for me 'cause feelings never die

I'll remember you
My very special friend
Until we meet again

(By Carrie Hamilton, Carol Burnett's daughter) — Carol Burnett

I think when people die, their souls go to heaven but just for a little while. Like that's where they see their old friends and stuff, and kind of catch up on old times. But then I actually think the souls start thinking about their lives on earth, like if they were good or bad or whatever. And then they get born again as brand-new babies in the world. — R.J. Palacio

I admonish Your Majesty, as the woman who gave you life and loves you like no other, to behave always in a manner that safeguards your immortal soul. Seek God's glory in the Holy Land rather than your own, that I may see you in heaven if never again in France. — Sophie Perinot

Now he was gone.
She said a silent prayer. Sent it up to heaven.
Sam, if you can hear me, I hope you've got nice food where you are. Some vegetables like these. They're meant to be good for you. So eat them all up, like I'm doing. When I die I'll come and see you, and we'll be together again. But for now I'm going to think of you safe and happy and playing knights with a friend.
Love from Ella. Your sister.
P.S. I got a good long turn with Godzilla today after we got here. Godzilla is very happy.
P.P.S. I forgot, you never met Godzilla. He is a puppy and is very cute. He belonged to a boy called Joel who got killed by monkeys. I think the monkeys were sick. Monkeys are usually nice. At least in stories.
P.P.P.S. Maybe you'll meet Joel where you are. Say hello. He is nice.
P.P.P.P.S. Good night, Sam. The others call you Small Sam. To me you're just Sam - my brother.
I miss you. I wish I was with you. — Charlie Higson

If you have a dear one in Heaven your heart yearns to see, do not despair, for you will meet again. The voice you loved to hear, you will hear again. The identity of the one you were near to on Earth remains the same, and instant recognition will be yours as you meet, never to part again. Your beloved one is only lost awhile. — Herbert Lockyer

At least I have the comfort of believing Alina is in heaven. That maybe someday I'll gaze into a child's eyes and see a piece of my sister's should in there, because the fact is I do believe we go on. Then again, maybe I'll never see a trace of her, but I still feel her. I don't know how to explain it. It's as if she's only a slight shift of reality away from me sometimes, in what I think of as the slipstream, and if I could only slip sideways, too, I could join her. And one day I think I will slip sideways and get to see her again, if only as ships passing on our way to new destinations in the same vas, magnificent sea. — Karen Marie Moning

I think God understands our pain better than we think. Crying over a sister or a brother who has died is natural and by no means wrong. We can be comforted to know that even though they are gone, we will see them again when we are all in heaven. — Sarah Holman

Ever'one here think it easy for me. I be this good little church boy from Mississippi with my good little church-goin' Mammy, and since I be this stupid country nigger with the big faith, I don't have no troubles. Well, it just don't work that way" ... "I see my friend Williams get ate by a tiger," ... "I see Broyer get his face ripped off by a mine. What you think I do all night, sit around thankin' Sweet Jesus? Raise my palms to sweet heaven and cry hallelujah? You know what I do? You know what I do? I lose my heart." Cortell's throat suddenly tightened, strangling his words. "I lose my heart." ... "I sit there and don't see any hope. Hope gone." Cortell was seeing his dead friends. "Then, the sky turn gray again in the east, and you know what I do? I choose all over to keep believin'. All along I know Jesus could be just some fairy tale, and I could be just this one big fool. I choose anyway." ... "It ain't no easy thing. — Karl Marlantes

The kingdom of heaven is for the heirs - and if children, then heirs; if born again, then heirs. Wherefore it is said expressly, Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God. By this one word, down goes all carnal privilege of being born of flesh and blood, and of the will of man. Canst thou produce the birthright? — John Bunyan

Liturgy means the work of the people. It means the labor we are to do. Liturgical formation, the work that shapes us, is this: praying the prayers we otherwise wish we could skip over, embodying them, posturing ourselves to be transformed by them, so that we can keep that posture and that work when we walk back out into the world. It is the way we learn the vocabulary of what we have seen, or maybe the promise of what we will see someday again. Maybe for the first time.

We bring heaven in. — Preston Yancey

Death is only final when you know you're not going to see them again! — Evinda Lepins

Where do bad folks go when they die?
They don't go to Heaven where the angels fly
They go to the lake of fire and fry
Won't see 'em again 'til the Fourth of July — Nirvana

The other day when we were reading The Little Mermaid again, at the part where it says that only human souls can go up to heaven and mermaids can't, you (Daria) said, 'See that's like Papa. He lives in heaven. With the angels' — Ekaterina Gordeeva

The beauty myth of the present is more insidious than any mystique of femininity yet: A century ago, Nora slammed the door of the doll's house; a generation ago, women turned their backs on the consumer heaven of the isolated multiapplianced home; but where women are trapped today, there is no door to slam. The contemporary ravages of the beauty backlash are destroying women physically and depleting us psychologically. If we are to free ourselves from the dead weight that has once again been made out of femaleness, it is not ballots or lobbyists or placards that women will need first; it is a new way to see. — Naomi Wolf

I didn't know it would get this hot," she said. "It's hot as hell."
"Hell is hotter."
"Sounds like you've been there."
"I've heard it from someone. They make it hotter and hotter till you think you'll go crazy; then they move you someplace cooler for a while. Then when you're recovered a little they move you back again."
"So hell it's like a sauna."
"Yeah, more or less. But a few can't recover and go totally bonkers."
"So what happens to them?"
"They get sent up to heaven, where they're forced to paint the walls. You see, the walls in heaven have to be kept a perfect white. As a result, they have to keep painting from dawn till dusk every day. It messes up their respiratory systems big time. — Haruki Murakami

Heaven is all around you. You just can't see us because we are vibrating at a higher level than you are. It's kind of like a dog whistle. There is a noise, a pitch so high that the human ear cannot detect it but it is there nonetheless, for don't you see all the dogs come running!
When we cross Rainbow Bridge we become only love and love is the highest level of vibration; the highest "pitch" so to speak. This is why you cannot see us. We are here, only gone from your sight until one day you are the same vibration as we are. When you vibrate in love all the time you will not have to ask again if I am here, you will know that I am here with you. — Kate McGahan

He blinked a few times, each motion so slow that he was never quite sure if he'd get his eyes open again. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Funny how he was only just realizing it. Funnier still that he couldn't seem to summon any concern for her maidenly sensibilities.
She might be blushing. He couldn't tell. It was too dark to see. But it didn't matter. This was Honoria. She was a good egg. A sensible egg. She wouldn't be scarred forever by the sight of his chest. — Julia Quinn

Was this the face that launch'd a thousand ships,
And burnt the topless towers of Ilium--
Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.--
'[kisses her]'
Her lips suck forth my soul: see, where it flies!--
Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.
Here will I dwell, for heaven is in these lips,
And all is dross that is not Helena.
I will be Paris, and for love of thee,
Instead of Troy, shall Wertenberg be sack'd;
And I will combat with weak Menelaus,
And wear thy colours on my plumed crest;
Yea, I will wound Achilles in the heel,
And then return to Helen for a kiss.
O, thou art fairer than the evening air
Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars;
Brighter art thou than flaming Jupiter
When he appear'd to hapless Semele;
More lovely than the monarch of the sky
In wanton Arethusa's azur'd arms;
And none but thou shalt be my paramour! — Christopher Marlowe

so clearly, that even if I should see him again, and if he should remember me and love me still (which, alas! is too little probable, considering how he is situated, and by whom surrounded), and if he should ask me to marry him - I am determined not to consent until I know for certain whether my aunt's opinion of him or mine is nearest the truth; for if mine is altogether wrong, it is not he that I love; it is a creature of my own imagination. But I think it is not wrong - no, no - there is a secret something - an inward instinct that assures me I am right. There is essential goodness in him; - and what delight to unfold it! If he has wandered, what bliss to recall him! If he is now exposed to the baneful influence of corrupting and wicked companions, what glory to deliver him from them! Oh! if I could but believe that Heaven has designed me for this! To-day — Emily Bronte

There'll be lawyers in heaven before you see somethin' so good again. — Colum McCann

I can't believe this night. I was supposed to be applauded and instead, I'm ruined. I swear to God in heaven if I ever see that man again, I will commit murder. (Tory) Well, if you need help moving the body, you know where Kim and I live. (Pam) — Sherrilyn Kenyon

[Artemis] returned to the aft bay for Mulch's version of a briefing.
The dwarf had drawn a crude diagram on a backlit wall panel. In fairness, there were more artistic chimpanzees. And less pungent ones. Mulch was using a carrot as a pointer, or more accurately, several carrots. Dwarfs liked carrots.
'This is Koboi Labs,' He mumbled around a mouthful of vegetable.
'That?' exclaimed Root.
'I realize, Julius, that it is not an accurate schematic.'
The Commander exploded from his chair. 'An accurate schematic? It's a rectangle for heaven's sake!'
Mulch was unperturbed. 'That's not important. This is the important bit.'
'That wobbly line?'
'It's a fissure,' pouted the dwarf. 'Anybody can see that.'
'Anybody in kindergarten maybe. So it's a fissure, so what?'
'This is the clever bit. Y'see that fissure is not usually there.'
Root began strangling the air again. Something he was doing more and more lately. — Eoin Colfer

Tonight, I want very much to believe that there's a heaven, that death is not a full stop, and that we will all see one another again. — Michael Morpurgo

I am beginning to see the fallacy in the Western world's take on dying. Too often we are taught that this one life is all there is and when it ends, that's it. Or, instead of once again returning to a loving God who welcomes us back Home with open arms, we are told that when we die we must stand in front of a stern and unforgiving deity who sits on a throne and looks at every mistake we have ever made, deciding if we are good enough to enter heaven. And, if we do make it past that stringent test, we certainly aren't able to visit our friends and family still living. No wonder so many of us are afraid of death. I also find it fascinating that most religions believe in angels or wise ascended souls who brought messages to certain people on earth (Moses and Noah, for example) thousands of years ago, but deny that such an occurrence can happen now. What, did God just decide not to talk to us anymore? — Donna Visocky

You ever wonder what happens to people when they die?" I asked. He shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I guess they go to heaven? That's where my Grans went." "I think about it a lot," I said. "I think when people die, their souls go to heaven but just for a little while. Like that's where they see their old friends and stuff, and kind of catch up on old times. But then I actually think the souls start thinking about their lives on earth, like if they were good or bad or whatever. And then they get born again as brand-new babies in the world." "Why would they want to do that?" "Because then they get another chance to get it right," I answered. "Their souls get a chance to have a do-over. — R.J. Palacio

Hope Was but a timid friend;
She sat without the grated den,
Watching how my fate would tend,
Even as selfish-hearted men.
She was cruel in her fear;
Through the bars one dreary day,
I looked out to see her there,
And she turned her face away!
Like a false guard, false watch keeping,
Still, in strife, she whispered peace;
She would sing while I was weeping;
If I listened, she would cease.
False she was, and unrelenting;
When my last joys strewed the ground,
Even Sorrow saw, repenting,
Those sad relics scattered round;
Hope, whose whisper would have given
Balm to all my frenzied pain,
Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,
Went, and ne'er returned again! — Emily Bronte

Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle,
Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong.
Think rather,
call to thought, if now you grieve a little,
The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long.
Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry
I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn;
Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry:
Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born.
Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason,
I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see injustice done.
Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation;
All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain:
Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation
Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again? — A.E. Housman

Would to Heaven we had never approached them at all, but had run back at top speed out of that blasphemous tunnel with the greasily smooth floors and the degenerate murals aping and mocking the things they had superseded-run back, before we had seen what we did see, and before our minds were burned with something which will never let us breathe easily again! — H.P. Lovecraft

3 All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is by his great mercy that we have been born again, because God raised Jesus Christ from the dead. Now we live with great expectation, 4 and we have a priceless inheritance - an inheritance that is kept in heaven for you, pure and undefiled, beyond the reach of change and decay. 5 And through your faith, God is protecting you by his power until you receive this salvation, which is ready to be revealed on the last day for all to see. — Anonymous

It is natural to want to forget, Anna, when everyday is a brimful of sadness. But those souls also forgot those that they had loved. You do not want that, surely? I have heard some preach that God wants us to forget the dead, but I cannot believe so. I think He gives us precious recollections so that we may not be parted entirely from those He has given us to love. You must cherish your memories of your babes, Anna, until you see them again in Heaven. — Geraldine Brooks

Perhaps the rest of the world was gone. It was the most plausible answer. Heaven knows she couldn't see or think of anyone else. That must be the answer, they were the only two people left, as the Earth spun into a timeless abyss.
Claire once read time doesn't pass at normal speeds within a black hole. If one were to travel into a black hole for only moments and return again, centuries would have passed. That explained the sensation she felt, once again peering into his dark gaze. She wouldn't look away; she'd trained herself better than that. Then again, she reasoned, it wasn't an option. She couldn't divert her gaze if she wanted. The hold upon her stare was stronger than any ropes or chains made by man. Claire knew from experience, submitting to the hold was her best chance at survival. Fighting was a futile waste of energy. — Aleatha Romig