There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats.
Women and cats will do as they please, and men and dogs should relax and get used to the idea.
Authors like cats because they are such quiet, lovable, wise creatures, and cats like authors for the same reasons.
It is remarkable, in cats, that the outer life they reveal to their masters is one of perpetual boredom.
My wife and I have so much fun when we travel and find anything... like stray cats and squirrels.
You were a stray cat, strutting so free and full of pride. But I could see your open wound. And without really thinking I just chalked it up to another cool thing about you. I never realized how much you hurt.
I have a theory which I suspect is rather immoral,' Smiley went on, more lightly. 'Each of us has only a quantum of compassion. That if we lavish our concern on every stray cat, we never get to the centre of things.
Nana acts like a stray cat, wild, free, and proud.... ...But inside her heart, she houses a wound. Dense as I am, i thought that. This trait of hers was a part of her charm as well. ..but she never realized how much pain it brought her.... -Nana Komatsu
I heard a wise saying once that has helped me: "Negative feelings are like stray cats. The more you feed them, the more they hang around.
You don't need to say any special incantation or sacrifice a stray cat or something first?
Say, Nana... You look like stray cat, wild and proud. But I can see the wound in your heart. At the time I just thought it was cool. I never realized how hurt you were.
With the Stray Cats at least, we really took the music somewhere else. First, we wrote our own songs. That's a real weak point in modern classics if you do rockabilly or blues.
On the Continent stray cats are judged individually on their merit-some are loved, some are only respected; in England they are universally worshipped as in ancient Egypt.
I dug myself a garden, and a stray cat I grew to like would come around to sulk in the corn. I forced myself to seek new love, and for a while, I thought I'd found it with a girl from my office. She was molten in my bed, but she also suffered depressions that were very dear to her. She would often call just to sigh at me for two hours on the phone, wanting me to applaud her depth of feeling. I cut if off, then missed her, wishing that I'd at least had the sense to take her naked photograph.
I have to deal with seven ex-stray dogs, and one ex-stray cat. One dog is nearing nineteen years old. Before I go to teach, he likes for me to tell him bedtime stories.
It's going to be like herding stray cats, and the political leaders who can do it will be remembered as the same kind of geniuses who pulled off the American Revolution.
For a metaphysical treat stop at the Big Sur Inn, which is also a haven for stray cats and dogs. Life along the South Coast is just a bed of roses, with a few thorns and nettles interspersed.
I can't tell you how many people have asked me to show them Stray Cat Strut and that little diminished run on the C. I guess my brain is wired backwards. I don't know what possessed me to do that, but I did.
or simply:
