The Soul Begins To Travel

The Cat Dwells Within The Circle Of Her Own Secret Thoughts.

The Essence Of Humor Is That It Should Be Unexpected, That It Should Embody An Element Of Surprise, That It Should Startle Us Out Of That Reasonable Gravity Which, After All, Must Be Our Habitual Frame Of Mind.

There Is No Illusion So Permanent As That Which Enables Us To Look Backward With Complacency; There Is No Mental Process So Deceptive As The Comparing Of Recollections With Realities.

It Is Bad Enough To Be Bad, But To Be Bad In Bad Taste Is Unpardonable.

The Vanity Of Man Revolts From The Serene Indifference Of The Cat.