The place was packed as full of smells as a bale is of cotton.
The place was packed as full of smells as a bale is of cotton.
The Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him.
Small miseries, like small debts, hit us in so many places, and meet us at so many turns and corners, that what they want in weight, they make up in number, and render it less hazardous to stand the fire of one cannon ball, than a volley composed of such a shower of bullets.
He is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories