How she'll greet me when she meets me when my ship gets in to port
It has not been a good week for sleep in the sense that I have managed about three to four hours out of every twenty-four and generally not when it's night out, but it has been an excellent week for ocean. After contemplating the question and decisively answering that she would rather be a dragon than a cat, my niece who was part of this afternoon's excursion with out-of-town family to Castle Island showed her fire by the sea.



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You're welcome! I grew up on The Book of Dragons (1901). I also grew up on most of her other children's novels, some of which—The Railway Children (1906), The Enchanted Castle (1907)—really hold up and some of which were rougher to re-read. Others I have not revisited recently enough to have relevant opinions on. As an adult, however, I can really recommend her weird fiction.
And from that day he grew furrier and furrier, and he was the beginning of all cats. Nothing of the dragon remained except the claws, which all cats have still, as you can easily ascertain.
Autolycus was most purrily dragonish.