When we were alive, they told us that when we died we'd go to heaven. And they said that heaven was a place of joy and glory and we would spend eternity in the company of saints and angels praising the Almighty, in a state of bliss. That's what they said. And that's what led some of us to give our lives, and others to spend years in solitary prayer, while all the joy of life was going to waste around us and we never knew. Because the land of the dead isn't a place of reward or a place of punishment, it is a place of nothing. The good come here as well as the wicked, and all of us languish in this gloom forever, with no hope of freedom, or joy, or sleep, or rest, or peace. But now this child has come offering us a way out and I'm going to follow her. Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glistening in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.

I don't believe she's in Heaven and I don't believe she's in a better place. She's dead and when we're dead, we're gone. There are no blinding lights, there is no happy music, there are no angels waiting to greet us. St. Peter is not at the Pearly Gates with a big fat fucking book, our friends and Relatives are not holding a seat for us at a divine dinner table, we do not get a tour of Heaven. We're dead and that is it. No more.

It is one of the many evils resulting from the absurdly erroneous teaching as to conditions after death which is unfortunately current in our western world, that those who have recently shaken off this mortal coil are usually much puzzled and often very seriously frightened at finding everything so different from what their religion had led them to expect. The mental attitude of a large number of such people was pithily voiced the other day by an English general, who three days after his death met one of the band of helpers whom he had known in physical life. After expressing his great relief that he had at last found someone with whom he was able to communicate, his first remark was: “But if I am dead, where am I? For if this is heaven I don’t think much of it; and if it is hell, it is better than I expected.”

If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.

The distance between death and life is not as great as you imagine.” “Really?” Yannis turned his way. “Then why don’t people come back to Earth after they die?” The stranger smiled. “Why would they want to?

For after death, as they say, the genius of each individual, to whom he belonged in life, leads him to a certain place in which the dead are gathered together for judgment, whence they go into the world below, following the guide who is appointed to conduct them from this world to the other; and when they have there received their due and remained their time, another guide brings them back again after many revolutions of ages.

There once lived an old man who had a wish. He prayed to God that before he died he would get the chance to see the difference between heaven and hell. One night an angel appeared before the old man’s bed and granted his wish. The angel blindfolded the man and spoke: “First you shall see hell.”
The old man felt a momentary weightlessness and then the angel removed the blindfold. The old man found himself standing in a boundless dining hall filled with large, rounded tables, ornate with gold. Each table was piled high with the most delicious of foods: fruits, vegetables, breads, cheeses, meats, desserts — everything you can imagine was there and exquisitely prepared. The man salivated at the sight as the intoxicating aromas filled his nose.
However, the old man noticed everyone seated at the dining tables was sickly with gaunt, morose faces seared with frustration. Each diner held a long spoon. These spoons must have been over three feet long. While the people cursed to hell could reach with their spoons any delectable food they wanted, they could not get the food into their mouths. The hell-dwellers were in a constant state of torment, starved and desperate to taste what was just inches away. Sickened, the old man cried, “Please stop — take me to heaven!”
And so the man was blindfolded again. “Now you will see heaven,” the angel said. After a familiar weightlessness, the blindfold was removed. The old man was confused. It was like he never left. He was once again in a great dining hall with the same round tables piled high with the same culinary lavishness. And just like hell, he saw these people also had long spoons preventing them from feeding themselves.
However, as the old man looked closer, he noticed that the people in this dining hall were plumply vivacious and smiling; laughter and cheer filled the air. As he panned through the hall and processed the joyous sounds, the difference between heaven and hell finally struck him: The people in heaven were using tho

There is one wonderful thing about the dead people that were raised—we do not hear of them any more. What became of them? If there was a man in this city who had been raised from the dead, I would go to see him to-night. I would say, “Where were you when you got the notice to come back? What kind of a country is it? What kind of opening there for a young man? How did you like it? Did you meet there the friends you had lost? Is there a world without death, without pain, without a tear? Is there a land without a grave, and where good-bye is never heard?”

At the end of things, The Blessed will say, “We have never lived anywhere except in Heaven.” And the lost will say, “We were always in Hell.” And both will speak truly.

And perhaps, just as those who die in this world by the separation of body and soul obtain different positions... in accordance with the differences of their deeds, so those who die, so to speak, in the realm of the heavenly Jerusalem, descend to the lower regions of our world, in such a way as to occupy different positions on earth in proportion to their merits.

Later, every form of religious belief seemed absurd to me, and death was as if disfigured. [...] Today I would never say: he has gone away. I’ve lost the sense of the crossing over: nothing goes up to heaven, we don’t move to another world, we don’t return, we aren’t reborn. We remain definitively immobile; death is the last point on the segment of life that has chanced to be ours.

People [who belong in this environment] look for a path in the heavens for the simple reason that they have lost their way on earth.

You people in all parts of the world, who have passed away over the ages, you did not live only to fertilize the earth with your ashes, so that at the end of time your descendants could become happy through European culture

"Just as there never died a man," quoth he, "But he had lived on earth in some degree, Just so there never lived a man," he said, "In all this world, but must be sometime dead. This world is but a thoroughfare of woe, And we are pilgrims passing to and fro;"