You see, when you're young and foolish it doesn't matter where you may be, you always think that you'll be happier somewhere else.
A robin perched on the branch of the apple tree, his feathers ruffled, his red chest blazing. 'No need to look so down in the mouth,' he chirruped. 'Things'll get worse before they get better.' 'I don't know what it is about that tree,' Geno grumbled...
Your growing antlers,' Bambi continued, 'are proof of your intimate place in the forest, for of all the things that live and grow only the trees and the deer shed their foliage each year and replace it more strongly, more magnificently, in the spring...
