lovecraft's orthography

''it happened on a summer's holiday that past a mad-house gate i took my way. within the bedlam was a sage confin'd who from too much study lost his mind. now strolling out, in watchful keeper's care, with childish sounds the madman fill'd the air. still dreaming of his letter'd days of yore, his ravings on remember'd subjects bore; dim came the thoughts of what he us'd to teach, and he began to curse our english speech.

"aha!" quoth he, "the men that made our tongue were arrant rogues, and i shall have them hung. for long establish'd custom what care have we? come, let us tear down etymology. let spelling fly, and naught but sound remain; the world is mad, and i alone am sane!"

''thus rav'd the sage; inventing, as he walk'd, a hundred ways to spell our words as talk'd. he simplify'd until his fancy bred a system quite as simple as his head. in scholarship disasterous change he wrought, and alter'd as he went, for want of thought.''

h.p.lovecraft, the simple speller's tale.