I've never understood why women love cats. Cats are independent, they don't listen, they don't come in when you call, they like to stay out all night, come home and expect to be fed and stroked, then want to be left alone and sleep. In other words, every quality that women hate in a man, they love in a cat.
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:; Its loveliness increases; it will never; Pass into nothingness; but still will keep; A bower quiet for us, and a sleep; Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing;
The one absolute, unselfish friend that man can have in this selfish world - the one that never deserts him, the one that never proves ungrateful or teacherous - is his dog. A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he can be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. He guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings and reputation falls to pieces he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens. If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies. And when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace, and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his grave side will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.
__George Graham Vest
I will lift mine eyes unto the pills. Almost everyone takes them, from the humble aspirin to the multi-coloured, king-sized three deckers, which put you to sleep, wake you up, stimulate and soothe you all in one. It is an age of pills.
__Malcolm Muggeridge, 1962
Soft moss a downy pillow makes, and green leaves spread a tent; Where Faerie fold may rest and sleep until their night is spent; The bluebird sings a lullaby, the firefly gives a light; The twinkling stars are candles bright, Sleep, Faeries all, Good Night;
__Elizabeth T. Dillingham, "A Faery Song"