Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.
The fog comes on little cat feet.
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over the harbor and city on silent haunches and then moves on.
And I realized that sometimes the greatest triumphs in your life come in on little cat feet and sit on silent haunches and it's up to you to see it before it moves on.
Happiness does not come quickly. It is not conferred by any single event, however exciting or comforting or satisfying the event may be. It cannot be purchased, whatever the allure of the next, the newest, the brightest, the best. Happiness, like Carl Sandburg's fog, "comes on little cat feet," often silently, often without our knowing it, too often without our noticing.
Tyranny, like fog in the well known poem, often creeps in silently 'on little cat feet.'
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