It's Strange That Words Are

I Am Glad You Have A Cat, But I Do Not Believe It Is So Remarkable A Cat As My Cat.

This Is The Way The World Ends, Not With A Bang, But A Whimper.

Turning Wearily, As One Would Turn To Nod Goodbye To Rochefoucauld, If The Street Were Time And He As The End Of The Street.

Simple And Faithless As A Smile And Shake Of The Hand.

The Name That No Human Research Can Discover-- But The Cat Himself Knows, And Will Never Confess. When You Notice A Cat In Profound Meditation, The Reason, I Tell You, Is Always The Same: His Mind Is Engaged In A Rapt Contemplation Of The Thought, Of The Thought, Of The Thought Of His Name: His Ineffable Effable Effanineffable Deep And Inscrutable Singular Name.