If Were Not Foolish Young, Were Foolish

Trouthe Is The Hyest Thyng That Man May Kepe.

But, Lord Crist! Whan That It Remembreth Me Upon My Yowthe, And On My Jolitee, It Tickleth Me Aboute Myn Herte Roote. Unto This Day It Dooth Myn Herte Boote That I Have Had My World As In My Tyme. But Age, Alias! That Al Wole Envenyme, Hath Me Biraft My Beautee And My Pith. Lat Go, Farewel! The Devel Go Therwith! The Flour Is Goon, Ther Is Namoore To Telle; The Bren, As I Best Kan, Now Most I Selle.

How Potent Is The Fancy! People Are So Impressionable, They Can Die Of Imagination.

He That Loveth God Will Do Diligence To Please God By His Works, And Abandon Himself, With All His Might, Well For To Do.

Nowhere So Busy A Man As He There Was And Yet He Seemed Busier Than He Was.