I am fond of pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
A dog is like a liberal. He wants to please everybody. A cat really doesn't need to know that everybody loves him.
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.
The nature of the universe probably depends heavily on who is the actual protagonist. Lately I've been suspecting it's one of my cats.
A cat pours his body on the floor like water. It is restful just to see him.
While cats can be infuriating, little old women in fur coats, they make me laugh. Of course, dogs, horses and my highly social chickens are dear to me, too.
Cat doesn’t have to work. She’s a woman of independent means. I settled enough money on her to allow her the freedom to do anything she wished. She went to boarding school for four years, and stayed to teach for another two. Eventually she came t...
He is quiet and small, he is black From his ears to the tip of his tail; He can creep through the tiniest crack He can walk on the narrowest rail. He can pick any card from a pack, He is equally cunning with dice; He is always deceiving you into beli...
"On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slanting I awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for. Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven, Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door. 'Raven's v...
Miranda shook her head slowly. 'Good heavens. That's quite an act you put on.' He drew himself up haughtily. 'I beg your pardon.' 'An act,' Miranda repeated. 'Stand as tall as you like, and frown at me all you wish. I saw you just now. You were feedi...
I once knew a fellow who committed robbery with violence, and he was sentenced to a long prison stretch and 12 strokes of the cat. He'd been injured during the robbery, so they put him in hospital to make him better so that they could make him worse....
It's easy to want to be an author. You see it in your mind with sun streaming through windows and a Siamese cat purring on an antique rug and a little pellet stove and somehow the bills are paid and there's wit and self-sufficiency and divine inspira...
Little mouse," a voice said through the keyhole. "Don't you know the more you wriggle, the greater the cat's delight?
The unity in every second of all time and all wandering mankind, all wandering womankind, all wandering children.
You'll forget it when you're dead, and so will I. When I'm dead, I'm going to forget everything–and I advise you to do the same.
She was a fool, and so am I, and so is anyone who thinks he sees what God is Doing, [writes Bokonon].
Nothing is generous. New knowledge is a valuable commodity. The more truth we have to work with, the richer we are.
Maturity,” Bokonon tells us, “is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything.
Americans... are forever searching for love in forms it never takes, in places it can never be. It must have something to do with the vanished frontier.
The trouble with the world is that people are still superstitious instead of scientific. If everybody would study science more, there wouldn't be all the trouble there was.
