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Camels spit only at liars, so you can guess why they adore me. In Arabia a herd of them followed me for miles, dry as dust and full of respect. One old bull offered me his hump. I declined, being a modest man, and rode two of them instead.

Bathing is dangerous at my size and strength. I sat down in a Hungarian spring, and the water rose and rolled over two towns. The mayors rowed up to me with a complaint. I stood, and the lake went dry. I then offered to pay with a bar of soap.

Ghosts at my castle pay rent. I made that clear to them on the first night. The Gray Lady cleans the silver. The headless knight holds the door, since he needs no room to turn. One old monk was late with his share, and I made him haunt the neighbors.

Rainbows make poor bridges, as I learned in Ireland. I rode up one side with a full pack and a goat. The red was firm, the blue was slick, and the violet gave way at once. We landed in a bog. The goat has been a strange color ever since.

Stripes were my idea. A plain orange tiger came to me in.