The Envier Praises Me Unknowingly.

Sorrow Is Too Great To Exist In Small Hearts.

You Often Say, "i Would Give, But Only To The Deserving." The Trees In Your Orchard Say Not So, Nor The Flocks In Your Pasture. They Give That They May Live, For To Withhold Is To Perish.

The Earth Is Like A Beautiful Bride Who Needs No Manmade Jewels To Heighten Her Loveliness.

Let Your Best Be For Your Friend.

If It Were Not For Guests All Houses Would Be Graves.