Why must I feel like that? Why must I chase the cat?
I could do terrible things to people who dump unwanted animals by the roadside.
If a farmer calls me to a sick animal, he couldn't care less if I were George Bernard Shaw.
I will write another book if I feel like it.
There was no last animal I treated. When young farm lads started to help me over the gate into a field or a pigpen, to make sure the old fellow wouldn't fall, I started to consider retiring.
It was Sunday morning (one a. m. ), a not unusual time for some farmers, after a late Saturday night, to have a look round their stock and decide to send for the vet.
I became a connoisseur of that nasty thud a manuscript makes when it comes through the letter box.
If the Book of the Law could be forgotten for so many years, who knows what was done to it during those years? Maybe it was lost later, too. And another one replaced it, and that one is no longer the original text. These are questions that perturb me much more than whether it's history or not history.
In 1938, after Austria, our universe had become accustomed to inhumanity, to lawlessness, and brutality as never in centuries before. In a former day the occurrences in unhappy Vienna alone would have been sufficient to cause international proscription, but in 1938 the world conscience was silent or merely muttered surlily before it forgot and forgave.
One of the best investments we can make is to give our kids the ingredients they need to develop in the first five years of life.
When we clutter our lives with imagined obligations, unnecessary activities, and distractions that only kill time, we dilute the power of our lives.