Cat In Hat Quotes

Cat wrinkled her nose. "No, thank you."
"Take," the rais told her. "Is good." He picked one up and held it out, and when she hesitated, thrust it at her with greater insistence. "With my people, hosbitality important. To refuse is insult."
She took a small bite. Sweetness flooded her mouth so that she gasped. It was not in the least what she had expected, for it tasted remarkably like the preserved medlars the cook bottled each autumn from Kenegie's orchard. "Oh..." She took the rest whole, saliva breaking from the corner of her mouth.
Al-Andalusi looked on, eyebrow cocked sardonically. "Is fig," he said. "In some tradition it was the friut Eve gave to Adam from the Tree of Knowledge."
"In the Bible that was an apple!"
"In our tradition, according to the Qu'ran, it was apple also. And when Adam swallowed mouthful od fruit, it stuk in throat and made lump all men have."
"The Adam's apple!" Cat cried, astonished. "We call it that as well."
"We are, perhaps, not such strangers to each other as you think. ~ Jane Johnson

Wonderful?" wrote J.O. Young in his diary. "To stand cheering, crying, waving your hat and acting like a damn fool in general. No one who has spent all but 16 days of the this war as a Nip prisoner can really know what it means to see 'Old Sammy' buzzing around over camp. ~ Laura Hillenbrand

The human being does not hop out of the magician's hat in the way that the ape climbs down from the tree; he also does not emerge from the hand of a creator who surveys everything in advance with his foreknowledge. He is the product of a production that is not itself a human being. The human being was not yet what he would become before he became it. ~ Peter Sloterdijk

The world has different owners at sunrise ... Even your own garden does not belong to you. Rabbits and blackbirds have the lawns; a tortoise-shell cat who never appears in daytime patrols the brick walls, and a golden-tailed pheasant glints his way through the iris spears. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Sentences were used by man before words and still come with the readiness of instinct to his lips. They, and not words, are the foundations of all language ... Your cat has no words, but it has considerable feeling for the architecture of the sentence in relation to the problem of expressing climax. ~ Rebecca West

This is the one time in this book this book that I felt Mustang acted like himself. His thoughts were so "Mustang". A frown furrowed Jenna's brow. "Oh, come on. What possible harm could it do?" "Darlin', I couldn't even begin to list all the harm her meeting you could do." He pictured that cozy introduction. Sage, this is Slade and his girlfriend, Jenna. She's the woman we shared for a week in Tulsa. You should read her book. It tells all about it, right down to the old double P. Yeah, right. He might as well add on, Oh, and by the way, that the name of the porno I starred in to. ~ Cat Johnson

We can never get rid of mouse-ideas completely, they keep turning up again and again, and nibble, nibble
no matter how often we drive them off. The best way to keep them down is to have a few good strong cat-ideas which will embrace them and ensure their not reappearing till they do so in another shape. ~ Samuel Butler

In Nepal, the phenomenon is reversed. Time is a stick of incense that burns without being consumed. One day can seem like a week; a week, like months. Mornings stretch out and crack their spines with the yogic impassivity of house cats. Afternoons bulge with a succulent ripeness, like fat peaches. There is time enough to do everything - write a letter, eat breakfast, read the paper, visit a shrine or two, listen to the birds, bicycle downtown to change money, buy postcards, shop for Buddhas - and arrive home in time for lunch. ~ Jeff Greenwald

Rick shuffled through the cards again. "Where is the tallest mountain on earth?" Lydia put her hand over her eyes so she could concentrate. "You said tallest, not highest elevation, so it can't be Everest." She made some thinking noises that caused the dogs to stir. The cat started making biscuits on her stomach. She could hear the clock ticking in the kitchen. Finally, Rick said, "Think ukulele." She peeked through her fingers. "Hawaii?" "Mauna Kea. ~ Karin Slaughter

I became very famous, as a teenager, and my name and photo were splashed in all the media. They made me larger than life, so I wanted to live larger than life, and the only way to do that was to be intoxicated. ~ Cat Stevens

Underneath, he was a good cat. Loyal and loving. But no one ever bothered to look past his rough exterior, because in reality, looks meant more than everyone wanted to admit. ~ Cambria Hebert

In the United States, you can put on a cowboy hat and join the country-western neighborhood. If you're down below 14th Street in New York City, that's bohemian; that's left-wing. ~ David Lee Roth

Fritz."
The butler rushed over from the crudité arrangement he was working on. "Yes, master! I am eager to be of aid."
"Take this." iAm peeled the cat off himself, prying both of its front claws out of his fleece. "And do whatever it is you do with it."
As he turned away, he felt like glancing back and making sure G*dd*mn was okay.
But why the fuck would he do that?
He had to get to Sal's and check on his staff. Usually he hit the restaurant in the early afternoon, but shit had not been "usual," what with that migraine: Every time his brother had one, they both got a headache. Now, though, with Trez rebounding and no doubt soon to be on the grind with that Chosen, it was time to get back on his own track. If only to keep himself from going psychotic.
Jesus Christ, Trez was now going to fuck that female. And God only knew where that was going to land them all.
Just as he hit the exit, he called out over his shoulder, "Fritz."
Through the din of First Meal prep, the doggen answered back, "Yes, master?"
"I never find any seafood in this place. Why is that?"
"The King does not favor any manner of fin."
"Would he allow it in here?"
"Oh, yes, master. Just not upon his table, and certainly never upon his plate."
iAm stared at the panels of the door in front of him. "I want you to get some fresh salmon and poach it. Tonight."
"But of course. I will not have it ready afore First Meal for you - "
~ J.R. Ward

Like my kith and kin before me, I swagger-staggered in high heels, and I wore a dress and a hat to church. But my fabulous tail often fell below my hemline, and my ears twitched until my hat pitched, at the very least, down over both my eyes, and sometimes clear across the room. ~ Clarissa Pinkola Estes

You know, I wouldn't mind more than a kiss."
He let out a laugh. "Believe me, neither would I, but not right now." Drink your tea, get some food in your stomach, and, maybe, we'll talk."
A frown creased her brow. "Talk?"
He had to smile at her persistence. "We'll talk about possibly doing more than kissing, deal? ~ Cat Johnson

God, she wanted to tackle him and roll around in him like a cat in a field of daisies. ~ Rainbow Rowell

I've always thought a hotel ought to offer optional small animals. I mean a cat to sleep on your bed at night, or a dog of some kind to act pleased when you come in. You ever notice how a hotel room feels so lifeless? ~ Anne Tyler

It was written all in O, or nearly so, and all the O's are gone," said Andrea. "When coat is cat, and boat is bat, and goatherd looks like gathered, and booth is both, since both are bth, the reader's eye is bothered."
"And power is power, and zero zer, and, worst of all, a hero's her." The old man sighed as he said it.
"Anoon is ann, and moan is man." Andrea smiled as she said it.
"And shoe," Andreus said, "is she."
"Ah, woe," the old man said, "is we. ~ James Thurber

They can't all be as charming as me," Vieve replied with a smile.
"Or as adorable as me," added Soap, coming up behind Vieve and nicking her cap. "Good evening, Miss Temminnick; Vieve. To what do we owe this honor? Shouldn't you be watching a play or something highfalutin in town?"
"Give it back!" Vieve made a grab for her hat, but Soap held it out of reach. "Can't stand the theater."
"And I'm not allowed," Sophronia added. "But Soap, Vieve and I were wondering if you could help us get out?"
"Out?"
"We want to pay a visit to Bunson's."
"But why? No one will be there."
"Exactly," crowed Vieve.
"They've got something we want to see."
Soap was suspicious. "What kind of something?"
"A communication machine," Sophronia explained.
Vieve nodded, grinning.
Soap looked back and forth between them. He ended with Sophronia. "Not you as well? Gone barmy over mechanics, have you? I should never have introduced you two. It'll all end in tears and oil. ~ Gail Carriger

All the way to hell. In a fancy paper hat. ~ Dan Abnett

History is a funny little creature. Do you remember visiting your old Aunt that autumn when the trees shone so very yellow, and how she owned a striped and unsocial cat, quite old and fat and wounded about the ears and whiskers, with a crooked, broken tail? That cat would not come to you no matter how you coaxed and called; it had its own business, thank you, and no time for you. But as the evening wore on, it would come and show some affection or favor to your Aunt, or your Father, or the old end-table with the stack of green coasters on it. You couldn't predict who that cat might decide to love, or who it might decide to bite. You couldn't tell what it thought or felt, or how old it might really be, or whether it would one day, miraculously, decide to let you put one hand, very briefly, on its dusty head.

History is like that.

Of course, unlike your Aunt's cat, history is going on all around you, all the time, and is often quite lively. Sometimes it rests in a sunbeam for a peaceful century or two, but on the whole, history is always plotting, and it bites very hard. It stalks around the world, fickle and dissatisfied and often angry. It demands to be fed just a little earlier each day, until you find yourself carving meat from the bone as fast as you can, faster than you thought possible, just to satisfy it. Some people have a kind of marvelous talent for calming it and enticing it onto their laps. To some it will never even spare a glance. ~ Catherynne M. Valente

Cat cleared her throat in the tense silence that followed. Uh, before this goes any further, let's at least introduce ourselves to your friend. I'm Cat, and this is my husband, Bones. We're part of Mencheres' twisted little fang family. ~ Jeaniene Frost

You'll be going back to Tokyo before much longer," Midorikawa quietly stated. "And you'll return to real life. You need to live life to the fullest. No matter how shallow and dull things might get, this life is worth living. I guarantee it. And I'm not being either ironic or paradoxical. It's just that, for me, what's worthwhile in life has become a burden, something I can't shoulder anymore. Maybe I'm just not cut out for it. So, like a dying cat, I've crawled into a quiet, dark place, silently waiting for my time to come. It's not so bad. But you're different. You should be able to handle what life sends your way. You need to use the thread of logic, as best as you can, to skillfully sew onto yourself everything that's worth living for. ~ Haruki Murakami

You know," Wayne said, "I'm an Allomancer too."
The man said nothing.
"I figured you'd want to know," Wayne said, "since it seems like this is your religion and all. In case you wanted someone else to worship."
Again no reply.
"I'm a Slider," Wayne said. "Speed bubbles, you know? Those fancy titles would work for me just fine, I think. Handsome One. Smart One. Um … Guy wif the Great Hat."
The only sound was that of their footfalls and the gusting wind.
"Now, see," Wayne said, "this is unfair. Wax doesn't want you to worship him, right? But you gotta have someone to worship. It's human nature. It's ingratiated in us. So, I'm willin' to be accommodatin' and let you - "
"He can't understand you, Wayne," Marasi said, marching past. "He's swapped metalminds to keep himself warm."
Wayne stopped in place as they all hiked onward. "Well, when he gets his brain back, someone tell him I'm a god, all right?"
"Will do," Wax called from up ahead. ~ Brandon Sanderson

Actually, have you ever noticed how a Negro, in particular down south, where they're pretty close to the soil, personifies MEST? The gatepost and the wagon and the whip and anything around there-a hat. They talk to them, you know. "What'sa mattuh wi' you hat?" They imbue them with personality. ~ L. Ron Hubbard

Lullaby For the Cat
Minnow, go to sleep and dream,
Close your great big eyes;
Round your bed Events prepare
The pleasantest surprise.
Darling Minnow, drop that frown,
Just cooperate,
Not a kitten shall be drowned
In the Marxist State.
Joy and Love will both be yours,
Minnow, don't be glum.
Happy days are coming soon
Sleep, and let them come ... ~ Elizabeth Bishop

He could have been married last year, but for his fascination with Lydia Charingford. The mornings when he tipped his hat to her on the street were always the brightest. He smiled when he saw her. He saw so little hope in the world, and she saw far too much. There were days he wanted to sit and watch her, to figure out where all that good cheer came from. ~ Courtney Milan

Marxist writers are generally either indifferent or mildly hostile to the anti-capitalist movement, which they see as no good substitute for the great projects of communism and social democracy. Now, in one sense this is quite justified[…] However, there seems very little reason to believe that a return to the tactics of the twentieth-century labour movement is going to achieve anything in the future… [W]hat is wrong with commodification is not commodification per se… Marxist tradition goes much further than simply recommending that the excessive power of capital be challenged and curbed. Historically, this tradition tends to assert that such a challenge can only be made by virtue of a direct challenge to the existing relations of production, conceived of as the basis for a social totality, and, crucially, that it can only be made by the proletariat, politically mobilizes as a 'Class of Itself'. In concrete terms, this means that only the labour movement, being organized and mobilized on the basis of its class identity and demanding the socialization of the means of production, can mount such a challenge… This is where I, and the anti-capitalist movement, part company with classical Marxism… [A]nti-capitalist movement is characterized by a certain pluralism, an unwillingness to impose any one model of social organization, and a refusal of neoliberal hegemony not on the basis of a single class identity or even a single universal human identity, but precisely n the basis of a d ~ Jeremy Gilbert

Oooo, what is that?" Red yelled when she saw the palace. "That's Buckingham Palace," Alex said. "It's where the monarchy resides." Red was mesmerized. "What a stylish and tasteful place! Look at that beautiful statue out front of it in the middle of the street! That looks exactly like the statue I wanted to build in celebration of Charlie's and my wedding!" Red left the others and flew down to the gate. She peered through the bars at the palace in delight. She had to hang on to the bars tightly because the fairy dust was making her drift back to the sky. One of the palace guards on duty saw Red and stared at her in disbelief. It wasn't every day he saw a floating woman at the gate. "Yoo-hoo!" Red called to him. "I just love your hat! Please tell the current monarch that Queen Red of the Center Kingdom says hello - " Conner flew to the gate and pulled Red's hands off the bars. "Red, come on. You're gonna get left behind! ~ Chris Colfer

AFTER WE DO THE WASHING-UP, I GET TO SPEND THE REST OF the evening reading FAQs on cat maintenance on the web. It takes about half an hour to come to the unwelcome realization that they're almost as complex as home-brew gaming PCs, and have even more failure modes. (When your gaming PC malfunctions it doesn't stealthily dump core in your shoes.) ~ Charles Stross

A girl nearby muttered,"If that's a lady, I'm a cat."
Reaching out, Sandry lifted the pitcher of milk from the table. Cradling it in both hands, she walked over to the mutterer.
I am Sandrilene fa Toren, daughter of Count Mattin fer Toren and his countess, Amiliane fa Landreg. I am the great-niece of his grace, Duke Vedris of this realm of Emelan, and cousin of her Imperial Highness, Empress Berenene of the Namorn Empire. You are Esmelle ei Pragin, daughter of Baron Witten en Pragin and his lady Colledia of House Wheelwright, a merchant house. If I tell you my friend is a lady, then you"- carefully she poured milk into Esmelle's plate-"you had best start lapping, kitty."
She set the pitcher down and returned to her chair. ~ Tamora Pierce

Caleb touched the brim of his hat and nodded an acknowledgment to Rupert, then spoke to Lily in the clipped, authoritative tone she'd heard him use with his soldiers. "We'll leave for the fort tomorrow," he announced. "You may do whatever you please, Major," Lily responded coldly, "but I'm staying here. I have business to attend to." "Shall I explain to your brother why I have a claim on you?" Caleb asked, his tone a mockery of indulgence. Lily felt her face go hot as a stove stoked for cooking. Rupert looked pleasantly baffled. "Did I miss something here?" Caleb relented just in time to save himself from a kick to the shins. "Tomorrow," he repeated. And then he excused himself and started to walk away. ~ Linda Lael Miller

Yuki: "What can I learn from a stupid cat like you? You didn't even know that Jason isn't really a bear. He's a character in a horror film."
Kyo: "Yeah? So what if I didn't? Like I'd waste my time watching some movie about a bear!"
Yuki: You truly are an idiot. ~ Natsuki Takaya