In The Jungle, Life And

Fiction Is Truth's Elder Sister. Obviously. No One In The World Knew What Truth Was Till Some One Had Told A Story.

However The World Pretends To Divide Itself, There Are Only Two Divisions In The World Today - Human Beings And Germans.

Funny How The New Things Are The Old Things.

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.

It Thrilled Through Him When He First Felt The Keel Answer To His Hand On The Spokes And Slide Over The Long Hollows As The Foresail Scythed Back And Forth Against The Blue Sky.