The joy of the well-crafted sentence

I have never been disposed with any particular favor toward cats. I have maintained an opinion of them like to the one they always seem to hold of me. I glare at them, and they glare back. They barely conceal their disdain for me, and I hardly keep mum on mine for them. Now and then, one of them will - if they still have their claws - succeed in a malicious hit-and-run upon my bared hand or too-near face. For my part when thus victimized, I take pride in a higher moral standard than that of the feline, and I turn the other cheek and think ill of them from the next room over. This is how I have coexisted with the feline order through the years.

- "Incidence with a cat", from the most wonderfully written but sadly defunct paper Three Weeks, via the eclectic blog of the Nonist.