January, Month Of Empty Pockets!

Never Touch A Butterfly's Wing With Your Finger.

There Are No Ordinary Cats.

By An Image We Hold On To Our Lost Treasures, But It Is The Wrenching Loss That Forms The Image, Composes, Binds The Bouquet.

The Day After That Wedding Night I Found That A Distance Of A Thousand Miles, Abyss And Discovery And Irremediable Metamorphosis, Separated Me From The Day Before.

Researchers, With Science As Their Authority, Will Be Able To Cut Animals Up, Alive, Into Small Pieces, Drop Them From A Great Height To See If They Are Shattered By The Fall, Or Deprive Them Of Sleep For Sixteen Days And Nights Continuously For The Purposes Of An Iniquitous Monograph. . . . Animal Trust, Undeserved Faith, When At Last Will You Turn Away From Us? Shall We Never Tire Of Deceiving, Betraying, Tormenting Animals Before They Cease To Trust Us?