Earth is but the frozen echo of the silent voice of God.

That's how it is on this bitch of an earth

You're on earth. There's no cure for that.

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,/ Whether the summer clothe the general earth/ With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing / Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch / Of mossy apple tree.

I am not yet so lost in lexicography, as to forget that words are the daughters of earth, and that things are the sons of heaven

People look for heaven in the sky, when they can find it on earth.