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Bullets from my old musket took so long to land that I could shoot on Monday, then ride ahead and catch them on Thursday. Once I met my own ball near Graz. We nodded to each other. I bought it a small drink and sent it on its way.

Crabs walk sideways on account of a bet I won. Long ago they marched straight ahead like good soldiers. I wagered their king a bushel of clams that he could not pass a mirror without stopping. He turned to admire himself, got stuck that way, and his whole nation copied him.

An elephant in Delhi once forgot something, and the shame nearly killed him. He came to me in tears. I sat him down and asked gentle questions for a week. It turned out to be the name of his aunt. We sent a letter, she wrote back, and the city danced until its walls fell.

A snail raced me from Naples to Rome, and I let him win. It took seven years, with stops. The crowds were dreadful. At the finish he was given a laurel no bigger than a coin, and he cried. I have seldom been so moved by an athlete.

Sleep came hard to a Carpathian bear I met, so I read him my poems. He was out.