Bagheera Quotes

A black shadow dropped down into the circle. It was Bagheera the Black Panther, inky black all over, but with the panther markings showing up in certain lights like the pattern of watered silk. Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path, for he was as cunning as Tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.

I had never seen the jungle. They fed me behind bars from an iron pan till one night I felt that I was Bagheera - the Panther - and no man's plaything, and I broke the silly lock with one blow of my paw and came away; and because I had learned the ways of men, I became more terrible in the jungle than Shere Khan.

I am more likely to give help than to ask it"—Bagheera stretched out one paw and admired the steel-blue, ripping-chisel talons at the end of it—"still I should like to know.

Remember, Bagheera loved thee," he cried, and bounded away. At the foot of the hill he cried again long and loud, "Good hunting on a new trail, Master of the Jungle! Remember, Bagheera loved thee.

Ay, roar well," said Bagheera, under his whiskers, "for the time will come when this naked thing will make thee roar to another tune, or I know nothing of man.

Bagheera to see if the Panther was angry too, and Bagheera's eyes were as hard as jade stones. "Thou hast been with the Monkey People--the gray apes--the people without a law--the eaters of everything. That is great shame." "When Baloo hurt my head," said Mowgli (he was still on his back), "I went away, and the gray

Sometimes Bagheera the Black Panther would come

Outsong in the Jungle [Baloo:] For the sake of him who showed One wise Frog the Jungle-Road, Keep the Law the Man-Pack make For thy blind old Baloo's sake! Clean or tainted, hot or stale, Hold it as it were the Trail, Through the day and through the night, Questing neither left nor right. For the sake of him who loves Thee beyond all else that moves, When thy Pack would make thee pain, Say: "Tabaqui sings again." When thy Pack would work thee ill, Say: "Shere Khan is yet to kill." When the knife is drawn to slay, Keep the Law and go thy way. (Root and honey, palm and spathe, Guard a cub from harm and scathe!) Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, Jungle-Favour go with thee! [Kaa:] Anger is the egg of Fear-- Only lidless eyes see clear. Cobra-poison none may leech-- Even so with Cobra-speech. Open talk shall call to thee Strength, whose mate is Courtesy. Send no lunge beyond thy length. Lend no rotten bough thy strength. Gauge thy gape with buck or goat, Lest thine eye should choke thy throat. After gorging, wouldst thou sleep ? Look thy den be hid and deep, Lest a wrong, by thee forgot, Draw thy killer to the spot. East and West and North and South, Wash thy hide and close thy mouth. (Pit and rift and blue pool-brim, Middle-Jungle follow him!) Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, Jungle-Favour go with thee! [Bagheera:] In the cage my life began; Well I know the worth of Man. By the Broken Lock that freed-- Man-cub, ware the Man-cub's breed! Scenting-dew or starlight pale, Choose no tangled tree-cat trail. Pack or council, hunt or den, Cry no truce with Jackal-Men. Feed them silence when they say: "Come with us an easy way." Feed them silence when they seek Help of thine to hurt the weak. Make no bandar's boast of skill; Hold thy peace above the kill. Let nor call nor song nor sign Turn thee from thy hunting-line. (Morning mist or twilight clear, Serve him, Wardens of the Deer!) Wood and Water, Wind and Tree, Jungle-Favour go with thee! [The Three:] On the trail that thou must tread To the threshold of our dread, Where the Flower blossoms red; Through the nights when thou shalt lie Prisoned from our Mother-sky, Hearing us, thy loves, go by; In the dawns when thou shalt wake To the toil thou canst not break, Heartsick for the Jungle's sake; Wood and Water, Wind air Tree, Wisdom, Strength, and Courtesy, Jungle-Favour go with thee!

Bagheera told him that he must never touch cattle because he had been bought into the Pack at the price of a bull's life.

Ts! Ts!" said Kaa, shaking his head to and fro. "I also have known what love is. There are tales I could tell that—" "That need a clear night when we are all well fed to praise properly," said Bagheera, quickly.

Everybody knew Bagheera, and nobody cared to cross his path; for he was as cunning as Tabaqui, as bold as the wild buffalo, and as reckless as the wounded elephant. But he had a voice as soft as wild honey dripping from a tree, and a skin softer than down.

Baloo and Bagheera, for, at the pace the monkeys were going, he knew his friends would be left far behind. It was useless to look down, for he could only see the top sides of the branches, so he stared upward and saw, far away in the blue, Rann, the Kite, balancing and wheeling

Ogni creatura occupa un posto. E quel posto è importante.

A man’s cub is a man’s cub, and he must learn all the Law of the Jungle.” “But think how small he is,” said the Black Panther, who would have spoiled Mowgli if he had had his own way. “How can his little head carry all thy long talk?” “Is there anything in the jungle too little to be killed? No. That is why I teach him these things, and that is why I hit him, very softly, when he forgets.” “Softly! What dost thou know of softness, old Iron-feet?” Bagheera grunted. “His face is all bruised to-day by thy—softness. Ugh!” “Better he should be bruised from head to foot by me who love him than that he should come to harm through ignorance,” Baloo answered very earnestly.

Sloane Sullivan, thirty years old. Pyro mage. Top ten percent of his training class. Anger issues, loyal, broken family, only child. Master of wards. Fischer Bahri, thirty years old. Cognitive mage. Interrogator, ability to not only read emotions but also push them, alter memories, hypnotize. Valedictorian of his training class. Loving family, one sister and two nieces. Cameron Jacobs, thirty-one years old. Storm mage. Protector, fierce fighter, relentless. Can manipulate weather within a seventy-five mile radius with the ability to create more localized storms. Generates lightning from hands. Severe childhood trauma. Fear of loss. Kaito Mori, twenty-nine years old. Shifter mage. Black panther: Bagheera. Heightened sense of smell, vision, and hearing. Oldest of five children. Struggled with depression in the past.

To Bagheera, my favourite alpaca. Because after 30 books, I’m running out of people to dedicate my books to. Clearly I need more friends.

Trust in me. Okay? Take my hands and look into my eyes." "Isn't that what Kaa says right before he tries to eat Mowgli?" She asked, taking his hands. "I'm more the Bagheera type. I protect.

A mí me tocó ser adolescente en el tiempo en que se leía a Salgari. Hoy poca gente lo hace y es lástima. Pobre Emilio Salgari, atado al banco de galeote de un editor italiano, produciendo novelas y novelas sin término sobre todo lo que en su tiempo pertenecía a la geografía fabulosa. Del fondo de la memoria me vienen los nombres de su India y su Malasia. Sandokan, Yáñez, Tremal Naik, Kammamuri, los «thugs» asesinos. Una geografía de visiones. Y también el «Libro de la jungla» de Kipling. Lo que está en alguna parte del nocturno, en invisible abajo, es la jungla de Kipling. Donde el tigre Shere-Kan bosteza y la pantera negra Bagheera se agazapa. La de Naga la cobra y Rikki-Tiki-Tavi la mangosta, la de los lobos de Seoanee y la de Balú el oso y la del consejo de animales y los cantos de las tribus. Los que vamos dentro del monótono tabaco del avión ya no tenemos nada en común con Mowgli, el niño-lobo, y estamos desterrados de por vida de la geografía de Salgari y de la zoología de Kipling.

Un tempo non sei stato capace di fare il servo. E non sei nemmeno riuscito trasformarti in gatto. Ora però tieni duro. E cerca di diventare pantera.

Fratello mio, ognuno ha i proprio lucchetti da rompere, e bisogna farlo da soli.

- La vostra Legge! Ma se io non volessi accettarla? - Chi non accetta la Legge, non distingue ciò che è giusto da ciò che è sbagliato. - Vorresti dire che non esiste una legge sbagliata? - Se esiste, va cambiata. Ma non si può ignorare. Altrimenti tutto è caos. - E chi dice che il caos non sia quello che voglio? Io sono libero! - Ma la tua libertà non può danneggiare quella degli altri!

È a questo che servono i maestri. Insegnano. E, dagli sbagli degli allievi, imparano anche loro.

– Le formiche hanno uno scopo, e tu hai uno scopo, e io ho uno scopo, e perfino Tabaqui ce l’ha. E le scimmie? E l’uomo? Qual è il loro ruolo nella giungla? Kamala scosse il muso. – Loro non ne hanno nessuno. – disse piano. – Perché vedi, Bagheera, alle volte anche alla Natura piace scherzare e commette errori.

La Natura è saggia, conserva l’equilibrio e per ogni creatura prevede un ruolo.

La Legge della Giungla non era una prigione, ma un nuovo modo di essere libero.

Capì che la Legge dell’Uomo, la Legge di Bagheera e la Legge della Giungla sono solo tre voci per cantare una stessa canzone, tre racconti per un’unica storia. La storia parla di quello che è giusto e di quello che è sbagliato, e di come ogni creatura, uomo o animale, prima o poi debba decidere da che parte stare.

Al di là del palazzo di Seeonee, delle campagne coltivate e dei villaggi, lungo le sponde di un fiume chiamato Waingunga, si estende una giungla così grande che nessun uomo ha mai avuto il coraggio di esplorarla tutta. Si dice che al suo interno si nasconda una città perduta, tana di scimmie e nido di cobra, e che nelle sue viscere riposi un favoloso tesoro. Si dice anche che da qualche parte vi sia una grotta dove viveva un’orsa saggia, e una Roccia del Consiglio dove siede il Signore dei Lupi. E che, tra fronde così fitte che la luce non vi arriva mai, si aggiri una tigre zoppa è uno sciacallo leccapiatti, e mille altre animali, e ognuno di loro ha una leggenda e un’avventura da raccontare. Si dice infine che da qualche parte vi sia una pantera con gli occhi verdi, nera come il solstizio d’inverno e più silenziosa di un pensiero. È coraggiosa e nobile, rispetta la Legge e conosce gli antichi Canti. Non sperate però di incontrarla. Le Pantere sono fatte d’ombra, si possono vedere solo con la coda dell’occhio e si tengono sempre alla larga dall’Uomo. Così il ruggito di Bagheera si perde nella favola, l’ombra della sua zampa scompare tra le foglie, il silenzio si fa assoluto tra gli alberi, le liane, il vento e il grande fiume. Perché, alla fine della storia, rimane solo la Giungla.