One Eare It Heard, At The Other

Ek Gret Effect Men Write In Place Lite; Th'entente Is Al, And Nat The Lettres Space.

Every Honest Miller Has A Golden Thumb.

. . . If Gold Rust, What Then Will Iron Do?/ For If A Priest Be Foul In Whom We Trust/ No Wonder That A Common Man Should Rust. . . .

Time Lost, As Men May See, For Nothing May Recovered Be.

Certain, When I Was Born, So Long Ago, Death Drew The Tap Of Life And Let It Flow; And Ever Since The Tap Has Done Its Task, And Now There's Little But An Empty Cask.