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All cat stories start with the statement: "My mother, who was the first cat, told me this..."
We eat the year away. We eat the spring and the summer and the fall. We wait for something to grow and then we eat it.
A pretty sight, a lady with a book.
I have often thought that with any luck at all I could have been born a werewolf, because the two middle fingers on both my hands are the same length, but I have had to be content with what I had.