One winter's night a Fox was unable to hunt for food because of a terrible blizzard. As he circled around the grasses and leaves of his burrow, he finally settled on a spot and wrapped his thick tail around his body, to help keep warm. His thoughts drifted to warmer days and good hunting…and the grapes.
We are the stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
--Shakespeare, The Tempest, Act IV