Cities And Thrones And Powers

Cat Said, 'i Am Not A Friend, And I Am Not A Servant. I Am The Cat Who Walks By Himself, And I Wish To Come Into Your Cave.'

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.

Delight In The Little Things.

What Is The Moral? Who Rides May Read.

Ah! What Avails The Classic Bent And What The Cultured Word, Against The Undoctored Incident That Actually Occurred? And What Is Art Whereto We Press Through Paint And Prose And Rhyme- When Nature In Her Nakedness Defeats Us Every Time?