Necrology of Sancho

Growing wings, was the ants’s downfall.

Half of loaf is better than no bread, and all cats are grey in the dark.

In trouble is a man, without a mouthfull of his morning bread, two hours after lunchtime.

A rich man, too, has but one stomach, and a stuffed belley will not rumble.

The Lord shall care for the birds of the sky: wether cloth or velvet, it is hardly matters so long as the cold bites not.

After he’s kicked the bucket, in death the rich man is as silent as the poor man.

The Pope needs no bigger grave than a bell ringer even if he is greater than the other: once dumped in a ditch you must huddle up or someone else will, like it or not, and that’s that.

True adding the leaven yourself will never ruin the loaf: I shall be lead by the nose by nose.

An old fox an old sparrow an old peasant are hard to fool.

Nothing costs less and nothing is cheaper than civility.

You have what you have, my grandmother used to say.

Whether the pitcher hits the stone or the stone the pitcher, the pitcher shall always get the worst of it.

All man are the same in their sleep: the tall and the short the rich and the poor.

Let the lord heal this sore.