One Eare It Heard, At The Other

Purity In Body And Heart May Please Some--as For Me, I Make No Boast. For, As You Know, No Master Of A Household Has All Of His Utensils Made Of Gold; Some Are Wood, And Yet They Are Of Use.

Mordre Wol Out, That Se We Day By Day.

This Flour Of Wifly Patience.

In The Stars Is Written The Death Of Every Man.

If Gold Rusts, What Then Can Iron Do?