The Cat Is A Dilettante In Fur.

Fortune Loves To Give Bedroom Slippers To People With Wooden Legs, And Gloves To Those With No Hands.

It Is Difficult To Obtain The Friendship Of A Cat.

Art Is Beauty, The Perpetual Invention Of Detail, The Choice Of Words, The Exquisite Care Of Execution.

Those Horses Must Have Been Spanish Jennets, Born Of Mares Mated With A Zephyr; For They Went As Swiftly As The Wind, And The Moon, Which Had Risen At Our Departure To Give Us Light, Rolled Through The Sky Like A Wheel Detached From Its Carriage.

Sometimes He Sits At Your Feet Looking Into Your Face With An Expression So Gentle And Caressing That The Depth Of His Gaze Startles You.