Head Lice Olive Oil Smothering

Text Baroque

... "Date: Mon, November 20, 2006 5:21:51 p.m.
3000 Subject: [Fwd: Warning hyperfiction" The disappearance of General Proust "]
From: Demombynes \u0026lt;Demombynes @ libanet.li>
To: Marc HODGES \u0026lt;mhodges@away.fr>

Here is what I received today: if you understand something! ...
Denis Demombynes

Date: Mon, 20 Nov 2006 11:11:41 6000
Subject: Warning hyperfiction "The disappearance of General Proust"
From: Zita AVARESCU \u0026lt;zitavaresc@forward.nu>
To: Demombynes \u0026lt;demombynes@libanet.li>

still and strong in the high hope in secret and hidden being; to Rehren nit when is the basic of all the earth moveth, overcome all the world stand-war people, be invincible, when strong now! wear the weakness all alone, in secret Herzner, Abyss pose clear apparent truth; Dulten Dazs boszheit the smoke honor niderschläget flame. Dazs before sweet shrub Rosenblüh virtue Haz-träget thorns, a heavenly heart is not a common gewürke pain. Lord! Hilff fight my weakness, it is without you a glass: you are their plate image, and whoever is up siht erstaünet rigid. Giess conquering Safft in Disz weak and Eyren Fasz! wann es meiner schwachheit spinngeweb deine Krafft umzäunet kan die fangen stärksten Wallfisch. Meine blödeheit IRRT mich nicht: sie ist der ursache Dasz Höchste durch mich etwas grosz verricht. "

I did the German past: I still have something. So I immediately noticed that it was a text of that language but he seemed full of spelling mistakes. I showed it to my guests. In fact, the German Baroque era, more exactly the sixteenth century. The above text says something like "Silence and strength, hope, live underground in secret, do not move when the foundation of all land trembles inevitably be very weak when it comes, one defeat all the troops under arms in the world, hiding in the dark abyss of the heart, the clarity of truth suffer wrong, the smoke , stifles the honor, the flame instead of buds of roses, thorns adorns virtue, is the lot of a celestial heart, not a common grief. Lord! Help my weakness without you is like a glass: you are the image on his shield, which freezes in terror who sees you. Pour the sap into this inexhaustible barrel shell! If your power locks him, the spider my weakness can catch the mighty whale. I do nothing wrong: he is concerned that the infinite acting, immense, through me. "

I confess I am rather puzzled that, although it may be something like a lament or a claim- - Zita, I doubt whether she had sent you ...