But all the wickedness in the world which man may do or think is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea.

There smites nothing so sharp, nor smelleth so sour as shame.

Like father, like son: every good tree maketh good fruits.

In a somer seson, whan softe was the sonne, I shoop me into shroudes as I a sheep were, In habite an heremite unholy of werkes, Went wide in this world wondres to here.

For if hevene be on this erthe, and ese to any soule,It is in cloistre or in scole.

I kan noght parfitly my Paternoster as the preest it syngeth,But I kan rymes of Robyn Hood and Randolf Erl of Chestre.

A fair feeld ful of folk fond I ther bitwene -Of alle manere of men, the meene and the riche,Werchynge and wandrynge as the world asketh.

Who will bell the cat?

Al the povere peple tho pescoddes fetten; Benes and baken apples thei broghte in hir lappe, Chibolles and chervelles and ripe chiries manye, And profrede Piers this present to plese with Hunger.

Try to listen silence of your loved one And you will find voice of Heart and Feelings

Never regret trusting someone. It proves you have a heart. But if he turns out to be a lying worm ... I'm not going to waste my time crying. Because I am way too fabulous for that.

So a more sensible thing it seemed to me was to go to Silicon Valley and be pushing on the technology companies to accelerate the use of audio and music in computers.

You will obtain a vision of matter that is perhaps fatiguing for your imagination, but pure and stripped of what the requirements of life make you add to it in external perception.

I wasn't surprised to find myself in the back of Mr. Klein's store, wearing only my undershirt and panties, surrounded by sable.

Betty White is probably a very nice woman.

So much of our lives depends on accidents of birth, time, and geography. This haunts me. In some lives, few "or"s are possible. The pain of that is behind the second stanza of this poem.

I've got a nine iron that says otherwise.

Cold! If the thermometer had been an inch longer we'd all have frozen to death!

Let us then ascribe the whole work of grace to the pleasure of God's Will. God did not choose us because we were worthy, but by choosing us He makes us worthy.