A Mountain With A Wolf

Once I Climbed Into A Mountain Lion's Cage And She Bounded At Me And Put Her Paw On My Face, But She Kept Her Claws Withdrawn.

There Is A Time Of Life Somewhere Between The Sullen Fugues Of Adolescence And The Retrenchments Of Middle Age When Human Nature Becomes So Absolutely Absorbing One Wants To Be In The City Constantly, Even At The Height Of Summer.

There Often Seems To Be A Playfulness To Wise People, As If Either Their Equanimity Has As Its Source This Playfulness Or The Playfulness Flows From Equanimity; And They Can Persuade Other People Who Are In A State Of Agitation To Calm Down And Smile.

Animals Used To Provide A Lowlife Way To Kill And Get Away With It, As They Do Still, But, More Intriguingly, For Some People They Are An Aperture Through Which Wounds Drain. The Scapegoat Of Olden Times, Driven Off For The Bystanders Sins, Has Become A Tender Thing, A Running Injury. There, Running Away Is Me: Hurt It And You Are Hurting Me.

Country People Tend To Consider That They Have A Corner On Righteousness And To Distrust Most Manifestations Of Cleverness, While People In The City Are Leery Of Righteousness But Ascribe To Themselves All Manner Of Cleverness.