God Bears With The Wicked, But Not

He Is Mad Past Recovery, But Yet He Has Lucid Intervals.

Translating From One Language To Another, Unless It Is From Greek And Latin, The Queens Of All Languages, Is Like Looking At Flemish Tapestries From The Wrong Side, For Although The Figures Are Visible, They Are Covered By Threads That Obscure Them, And Cannot Be Seen With The Smoothness And Color Of The Right Side.

I Do Not Say A Proverb Is Amiss When Aptly And Reasonably Applied, But To Be Forever Discharging Them, Right Or Wrong, Hit Or Miss, Renders Conversation Insipid And Vulgar.

God Who Sends The Wound Sends The Medicine.

Our Hours In Love Have Wings; In Absence, Crutches.