““When we see one another in heaven, we will have beautiful bodies that will far surpass the beauty of our bodies on this earth.”

—  Paul P. Enns

Source: Heaven Revealed (Moody, 2011), p. 80

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Paul P. Enns photo
Paul P. Enns 48
American theologian 1937

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“On the new earth—heaven—we will have perfect bodies, resistant to any ailment. Our new bodies will continue on forever, without missing a beat.”

Paul P. Enns (1937) American theologian

Source: Heaven Revealed (Moody, 2011), pp. 78-79

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“We touch Heaven, when we lay our hand on a human body.”

Novalis (1772–1801) German poet and writer

Variant translation: There is but one temple in the Universe and that is the Body of Man.
As inscribed on the Library of Congress, quoted in Handbook of the New Library of Congress (1897) by Herbert Small, p. 53
Novalis (1829)
Context: There is but one Temple in the World; and that is the Body of Man. Nothing is holier than this high form. Bending before men is a reverence done to this Revelation in the Flesh. We touch Heaven, when we lay our hand on a human body.

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“Beautiful is what we see, More Beautiful is what we know, most Beautiful by far is what we don't.”

Nicolas Steno (1638–1686) Pioneer in anatomy and geology, bishop

quoted by Addison Anderson in a TED-Ed lesson. https://ed.ted.com/lessons/the-most-groundbreaking-scientist-you-ve-never-heard-of-addison-anderson

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“For, among the world's incertitudes, this thing called arithmetic is established by a sure reasoning that we comprehend as we do the heavenly bodies. It is an intelligible pattern, a beautiful system, that both binds the heavens and preserves the earth. For is there anything that lacks measure, or transcends weight? It includes all, it rules all, and all things have their beauty because they are perceived under its standard.”
Haec enim quae appellatur arithmetica inter ambigua mundi certissima ratione consistit, quam cum caelestibus aequaliter novimus: evidens ordo, pulchra dispositio, cognitio simplex, immobilis scientia, quae et superna continet et terrena custodit. quid est enim quod aut mensuram non habeat aut pondus excedat? omnia complectitur, cuncta moderatur et universa hinc pulchritudinem capiunt, quia sub modo ipsius esse noscuntur.

Bk. 1, no. 10; p. 12.
Variae

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“When we see the beauty of the snow, when we see the beauty of the full moon, when we see the beauty of the cherries in bloom, when in short we brush against and are awakened by the beauty of the four seasons, it is then that we think most of those close to us, and want them to share the pleasure.”

Yasunari Kawabata (1899–1972) Japanese author, Nobel Prize winner

Japan, the Beautiful and Myself (1969)
Context: Dr. Yashiro Yukio, internationally known as a scholar of Botticelli, a man of great learning in the art of the past and the present, of the East and the West, has summed up one of the special characteristics of Japanese art in a single poetic sentence: "The time of the snows, of the moon, of the blossoms — then more than ever we think of our comrades." When we see the beauty of the snow, when we see the beauty of the full moon, when we see the beauty of the cherries in bloom, when in short we brush against and are awakened by the beauty of the four seasons, it is then that we think most of those close to us, and want them to share the pleasure. The excitement of beauty calls forth strong fellow feelings, yearnings for companionship, and the word "comrade" can be taken to mean "human being". The snow, the moon, the blossoms, words expressive of the seasons as they move one into another, include in the Japanese tradition the beauty of mountains and rivers and grasses and trees, of all the myriad manifestations of nature, of human feelings as well.

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“Beauty is momentary in the mind —
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives.”

Wallace Stevens (1879–1955) American poet

Peter Quince at the Clavier (1915)
Context: Beauty is momentary in the mind —
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.
The body dies; the body's beauty lives.
So evenings die, in their green going,
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
The cowl of winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden's choral.

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