There is nothing sadder than the cheerful letters of the dead, expressing hopes that were never fulfilled, ambitions that were never achieved, dreams cut off before they could come to fruition.
Since I am not as stupid as my children believe I am, I had immediately realized this might be a ruse, but I was not at all averse to a confrontation. In fact, I had been hoping for some such thing.
You are softening toward the young rascal because he is ill, and because he says he likes cats.” “It is an engaging quality, Emerson.” “That depends,” said Emerson darkly, “on how he likes them.
Nefret had always had an uncanny ability to read his thoughts. ‘Did she cry?’ she asked sweetly. ‘And then you kissed her? You shouldn’t have done that. I’m sure you meant well, but kissing someone out of pity is always a mistake.
In the silence I heard Bastet, who had retreated under the bed, carrying on a mumbling, profane monologue. (If you ask how I knew it was profane, I presume you have never owned a cat.)
..he continues to cling to the forlorn hope that I will turn into one of those swooning females…and fling myself squeeling at him whenever anything happens. Like all men, he clings to his illusions.
I had refused Emerson’s well-meant offers of assistance, knowing his efforts would be confined to moving the furniture to the wrong places and demanding how much longer the process would take.
