What do you do when you throw a party, but no one wants to dance? Well, you bring everyone to the neighbors’ house, of course.
“Up ahead they’s a thousan’ lives we might live, but when it comes it’ll on’y be one.” ― John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath “MY ONE LIFE IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!” ― Steinbeck Rosenberg
Yes, Allen, I’m afraid it’s true. There are people who will define you by the dust on your coat and the dirt under your claws. Fret not. These people are not your pals.
The rules were clearly delineated. The recipe was printed legibly. The results rebelled.
You just can’t stop, can you? Cherishing the kittens, that is. It’s a Very, Very, Very, Very, Very, Very good thing you’re here.
You can count on Sweetie, you know. This may come as a surprise, since Sweetie doesn’t even want you to count the rings on his tail. He is timid and ponderous, bashful and bewildered. That is precisely why you can count on Sweetie. You just need to learn what Sweetie knows.
At fifty-five miles an hour, you would scarcely see her. Was that a cat, or someone’s discarded sweatshirt? Was there breath in that bundle, or just speckles and bones? The world drives too fast. Only love is slow enough to see the sparkle.
I am not supposed to be writing this, and you are not supposed to be reading it. But we are not in control.
The world would be so simple if everyone was only one thing. The world would be so simple, small, and sad.
He came into this kingdom in April, not August. He pronounced himself a mouse, not a manticore. But a brown tabby can only hide his majesty for so long.