I have many masters, both highborn and low A king, a page, and others you'd know Some would shred me and grab my long neck Who would turn me into a wreck

You can fiddle it, it's not a device. Bent or straight, it depends how you hold it. Don't fiddle in public, it's impolite. As you grow you stop sucking on it.

I fold in half to fit just right, and rest within your pocket tight. I hold your cash and cards with care, a daily thing you always bear.

I have eye but cannot see I have ear but cannot hear I have brain but cannot think I have wisdom, hope and fear I have pain but bleed no blood I have dream but do not sleep I have nothing, I have all I have cat and dog and sheep I have leg but must be carried I have what you have in mind I have meaning, I have nonsense I have all your world defined

I connect you to the world but I have no voice of my own. I live in your pocket and light up with information. I remember everything you tell me and everyone you know. I can show you places you have never been and let you talk to people far away. Without electricity I am useless. What am I?