Clinton by Walter Aimwell

An icicle is hanging over the window by which I write. A day or two / ago, it was hardly perceptible, but it has gone on, increasing in / size, until now it is as large round as my arm, and full as long. It / is nothing, however, but an innumerable collection of little drops of / water, frozen together. One by one they chased each other down the / roof above, but on coming to the cold icicle, they became chilled, and / were congealed into a part of itself, some of them running down to its / slender tip, and others fastening themselves upon its sides, or its / inverted base.

It is thus that evil habits are formed-drop by drop, and atom by atom. / One wrong act prepares the way for another. One bad habit invites and / attracts others. Thus the little one soon becomes a troop, and the / feeble enemy swells into a formidable giant.