Is nature a giant cat? If so, who strokes its back?
Happiness is like a cat, If you try to coax it or call it, it will avoid you; it will never come. But if you pay not attention to it and go about your business, you'll find it rubbing against your legs and jumping into your lap.
I never wanted to be a statistic. I never wanted to be that cat who tried and never made it.
Curiosity might have killed the cat, but little girls usually fared much better.
Wow," came a familiar voice, "Hypochondriac killed the cat." -Dess
If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things you cannot learn any other way.
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
Why must I feel like that? Why must I chase the cat?
Woman is essentially unpeaceful, like the cat, however well she may have trained herself to present an appearance of peace.
You would wind up as a cat, I told her. They don't need anyone else. I need you, she replied. Well, I said. Maybe I'll come back as catnip.
There are more ways of killing a cat than drowning it in butter; but this is the sort of thing (as the proverb indicates) we overlook: there are more ways of outraging speech than contradiction merely.
Cats 25 years younger can't run with me.
One thing about Italians is you can't let them in your head. They're inquisitive. The English and Germans are a dog tribe; the Italians are cats. They're very helpful, but it's in their own rhythm, their own way, and it can drive you crazy.
I loved Catwoman's sense of humor. I love how sly she is. I love how she, to use a cat metaphor, walks the fence and you don't know which side she's going to come down on. She's totally independent. And let's face it, she's badass.
I'm a real pussy cat - with an iron tail.
One of my earliest memories as a reader - I don't know how old I was, quite young - was a poem of his, called "Fog," and I remember the first verse, "The fog comes / on little cat feet".
All day long the door of the sub-conscious remains just ajar; we slip through to the other side, and return again, as easily and secretly as a cat.
I describe myself as an indoor cat, because I'm a computer guy and I always have been.
We must begin to understand the nature of intertextuality . . . the manner by which texts poems and novels respond to other texts. After all, all cats may be black at night, but not to other cats.
A cat will never drown if she sees the shore.
