The sweetest thing that ever grew Beside a human door.

The opera ain't over till the fat lady sings.

Between two stools one sits on the ground. [Fr., S'asseoir entre deux selles le cul a terre.]

Perhaps there is only one cardinal sin: impatience. Because of impatience we were driven out of Paradise, because of impatience we cannot return.

The traditional worship setting is both the inspiration for faith and fellowship, and the barrier to it. Due only to Word and Sacrament -- God's ideas -- is there any faith to be shared or truth to articulate. However, the very setting in which this is received instills the fear of expressing it informally.

[Witches] steal young children out of their cradles, ministerio doemonum, and put deformed in their rooms, which we call changelings.

We romantic writers are there to make people feel and not think. A historical romance is the only kind of book where chastity really counts.

The squeaking wheel doesn't always get the grease..sometimes it gets replaced.

On the beach at night, Stands a child with her father, Watching the east, the autumn sky. Up through the darkness, While ravening clouds, the burial clouds, in black masses spreading, Lower sullen and fast athwart and down the sky, Amid a transparent clear belt of ether yet left in the east, Ascends large and calm the lord-star Jupiter, And nigh at hand, only a very little above, Swim the delicate sisters the Pleiades. From the beach the child holding the hand of her father, Those burial-clouds that lower victorious soon to devour all, Watching, silently weeps. Weep not, child, Weep not, my darling, With these kisses let me remove your tears, The ravening clouds shall not long be victorious, They shall not long possess the sky, they devour the stars only in apparition, Jupiter shall emerge, be patient, watch again another night, the Pleiades shall emerge, They are immortal, all those stars both silvery and golden shall shine out again, The great stars and the little ones shall shine out again, they endure, The vast immortal suns and the long-enduring pensive moons shall again shine. Then dearest child mournest thou only for jupiter? Considerest thou alone the burial of the stars? Something there is, (With my lips soothing thee, adding I whisper, I give thee the first suggestion, the problem and indirection,) Something there is more immortal even than the stars, (Many the burials, many the days and nights, passing away,) Something that shall endure longer even than lustrous Jupiter Longer than sun or any revolving satellite, Or the radiant sisters the Pleiades.

Seven principles for eradicating selfish ambition in the fellowship: 6. the ministry of proclaiming Where Christians live together the time must ultimately come when in some crisis one person will have to declare God's Word and will to another. It is inconceivable that the things that are of utmost importance to each individual should not be spoken by one to another. It is unchristian consciously to deprive another of the one decisive service we can render to him... The more we learn to allow others to speak the Word to us, to accept humbly and gratefully even severe reproaches and admonitions, the more free and objective will we be in speaking ourselves. The humble person will stick to truth and love. He will stick to the Word of God and let it lead him to his brother... Reproof is unavoidable. God's Word demands it when a brother falls into open sin. Where defection from God's Word in doctrine or life imperils the fellowship... the word of admonition and rebuke must be ventured. Nothing can be more cruel than the tenderness that consigns another to his sin. Nothing can be more compassionate than the severe rebuke that calls a brother back from the path of sin. It is a ministry of mercy, an ultimate offer of genuine fellowship, when we allow nothing but God's Word to stand between us, judging and succoring.

Nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.

Everything you are against weakens you. Everything you are for empowers you.

Suburbia is where the developer bulldozes out the trees, then names the streets after them.

Hail, O bleeding Head and wounded, With a crown of thorns surrounded, Buffeted, and bruised and battered, Smote with reed by striking shattered, Face with spittle vilely smeared! Hail, whose visage sweet and comely, Marred by fouling stains and homely, Changed as to its blooming color, All now turned to deathly pallor, Making heavenly hosts affeared!

Fashions, after all, are only induced epidemics.

There are calumnies against which even innocence loses courage.

Bring to a boil Add oil Then bomb Ms Roy is author of the God of Small Things.

Live within your income, even if you have to borrow money to do so.

The progress of freedom depends more upon the maintenance of peace, the spread of commerce, and the diffusion of education, than upon the labors of cabinets and foreign offices.

Terrible is the temptation to be good.