Esta es un loca strana, un loca estracomun e interesante. A casa, ave no cosa cual sembla el. Tota de la persones es demente, tota la otra animales es demente, la tera es demente, la Natur se mesma es demente. La umana es un cosa strana e mervelios. Cuando el condui se a sua modo la plu bon, el es como un anjel de grado basa, placada con nicel; en sua modo la plu mal, el es nonmensionable, nonimajinable; e prima e ultima e sempre, el es un sarcasmo. An tal, el dona blanda e sinsera a se mesma la nom “la opera la plu nobil de Dio”. Esta cual me reconta a vos es la vera. E esta no es un idea nova per el; el ia dise la idea tra tota la edas e ia crede el. El ia crede el, e ia trova nun entre tota sua raza ci rie a la idea.
This is a strange place, and extraordinary place, and interesting. There is nothing resembling it at home. The people are all insane, the other animals are all insane, the earth is insane, Nature itself is insane. Man is a marvelous curiosity. When he is at his very very best he is a sort of low grade nickel-plated angel; at is worst he is unspeakable, unimaginable; and first and last and all the time he is a sarcasm. Yet he blandly and in all sincerity calls himself the “noblest work of God.” This is the truth I am telling you. And this is not a new idea with him, he has talked it through all the ages, and believed it. Believed it, and found nobody among all his race to laugh at it.
Plu – si vos permete ce me eserse denova vos capasia de crede – el pensa ce el es la amada de la Creor. El crede ce la Creor es orgulos de el; el crede an ce la Creor ama el, ave un pasion per el, resta veliada a note per amira el, e an garda el e salva el de turba. El prea a El, e pensa ce El atende. Esce esta no es un idea bizara? El pleni sua preas con adulas cru e evidente e floros a El, e pensa ce El senta e ronrona sur esta estravagantes e gusta los. El prea per aida, e per favore, e per proteje, a cada dia; e el prea con espera e sertia ance, an si sua preas es nunca realida. La despeta dial, la defeta dial, no descoraji el: El continua prea en la mesma modo. Ave alga cosa cuasi bela en esta ostina. Me debe eserse vos capasia de crede a un ves nova: el pensa ce el va vade a sielo!
Moreover – if I may put another strain upon you – he thinks he is the Creator’s pet. He believes the Creator is proud of him; he even believes the Creator loves him; has a passion for him; sits up nights to admire him; yes, and watch over him and keep him out of trouble. He prays to Him, and thinks He listens. Isn’t it a quaint idea? Fills his prayers with crude and bald and florid flatteries of Him, and thinks He sits and purrs over these extravagancies and enjoys them. He prays for help, and favor, and protection, every day; and does it with hopefulness and confidence, too, although no prayer of his has ever been answered. The daily affront, the daily defeat, do not discourage him, he goes on praying just the same. There is something almost fine about this perseverance. I must put one more strain upon you: he thinks he is going to heaven!
El ave mestres con salario ci dise esta a el. Los dise ance ce ave un enferno, de foco eternal, e ce el va vade ala si el no segue la Comandas. Ce es la Comandas? Los es un cosa strana. Me va reconta los a vos en la futur.
He has salaried teachers who tell him that. They also tell him there is a hell, of everlasting fire, and that he will go to it if he doesn’t keep the Commandments. What are Commandments? They are a curiosity. I will tell you about them by and by.