Brambles never scratch those who understand and are considerate of them.
Peter Rabbit.

Peter Rabbit sat under a friendly bramble-bush on the edge of the Old
Pasture and panted for breath, while his heart went pit-a-pat, pit-a-
pat, as if it would thump its way right through his sides. Peter had had
a terrible fright. There were long tears in his coat, and he smarted and
ached dreadfully where the cruel claws of Hooty the Owl had torn him.
And there he was in a strange place, not knowing which way to turn, for
you know he never had visited the Old Pasture before.

But Peter had had so many narrow escapes in his life that he had learned
not to worry over dangers that are past. Peter is what wise men call a
phi-los-o-pher. That is a big word, but its meaning is very simple. A
philosopher is one who believes that it is foolish to think about things
that have happened, except to learn some lesson from them, and that the
best thing to do is to make the most of the present. Peter had learned
his lesson. He was sure of that.

"I never, never will forget again to watch out for Hooty the Owl," said
he to himself, as he nursed his wounds, "and so perhaps it is a good
thing that he so nearly caught me this time. If he hadn't, I might have
forgotten all about him some time when he could catch me. I certainly
wouldn't have watched out for him way up here, for I didn't think he
ever came up to the Old Pasture. But now I know he does, Mr. Hooty'll
have to be smarter than he's ever been before to catch me napping again.
My, how I do smart and ache! I know now just how Danny Meadow Mouse felt
that time Hooty caught him and dropped him into the Old Briar-patch.
Ouch! Well, as my mother used to say: