beautiful December grapes, blue as plums, every grape a little skinful of sweet, tasteless water
I am indebted to the cat for a particular kind of honorable deceit, for a greater control over myself, for a characteristic aversion to brutal sounds, and for the need to keep silent for long periods of time.
It takes time for the absent to assume their true shape in our thoughts.
No temptation can ever be measured by the value of its object.
There are no ordinary cats.
The true traveler is he who goes on foot, and even then, he sits down a lot of the time.