Explore "Clinton" by Walter Aimwell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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.