If You Can Think–and Not Make Thoughts

Delight In The Little Things.

Being Kissed By A Man Who Didn't Wax His Moustache Was-like Eating An Egg Without Salt.

Gardens Are Not Made By Singing 'oh, How Beautiful,' And Sitting In The Shade.

Small Miseries, Like Small Debts, Hit Us In So Many Places, And Meet Us At So Many Turns And Corners, That What They Want In Weight, They Make Up In Number, And Render It Less Hazardous To Stand The Fire Of One Cannon Ball, Than A Volley Composed Of Such A Shower Of Bullets.

A Black Shadow Dropped Down Into The Circle. It Was Bagheera The Black Panther, Inky Black All Over, But With The Panther Markings Showing Up In Certain Lights Like The Pattern Of Watered Silk. Everybody Knew Bagheera, And Nobody Cared To Cross His Path, For He Was As Cunning As Tabaqui, As Bold As The Wild Buffalo, And As Reckless As The Wounded Elephant. But He Had A Voice As Soft As Wild Honey Dripping From A Tree, And A Skin Softer Than Down.