Quotes by British Authors - Page 201

Either you like cats or you don't. Whole nations have been divided on what people thought of an animal that mates openly, walks in silence and keeps its own counsel.
John Hillaby
When I later discovered that she (illustrator Faith Jaques) was a compulsive reader who loved to be alone and kept cats because they are the only pets that allow you to be both, my adoration of Jaques and her work could only increase.
Lucy Mangan
I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.
Winston S. Churchill
I was just thinking how the purr of a contented cat is one of my favorite sounds in the world. There's something so comforting about it, isn't there?
Laura Lam
Cats do not hunt seals. They would hunt them if they knew what seals and where to find them. But they do not know, so it's okay.
Terry Pratchett
It is better to scare off a mouse than welcome a badger
Erin Hunter
He has made the cat his own. He invented a cat style, a cat society, a whole cat world. English cats that do not look and live like Louis Wain cats are ashamed of themselves.
H.G.Wells
Cats aren’t as friendly as they appear: fur, teeth, instinct, selfishness and cunning. Essentially they’re just big rats.
Richard House
So what about the cats?”“What about them?”“The cats he killed. He killed all those cats. Dumped them in the tank.”“So he didn’t like cats.”“With a slingshot.”“They were strays. Nobody missed them.”“But you don’t kill cats. That’s not normal.”Rino shrugged. “Cats are cats.
Richard House
For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.For he is the servant of the Living God, duly and daily serving him.For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with his elegant quickness...For when his day's work is done his business more properly begins.For he keeps the Lord's watch in the night against adversary.For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin & glaring eyes.
Christopher Smart
Tigerclaw stared in disbelief. Was the life of his son dependent on an ancient medicine cat and an arrogant kittypet?
Erin Hunter
Cats don't think they're owned by anybody. Even behind doors and windows, like amiable Wally, they're free. Always. That may, in fact, be the most important thing about them.
Michael Korda
You think those cats care? You think other animals watch each other go at it and it does something for them?”“Like cat-porn.
Richard House
Floyd arrived in the kitchen and leapt onto Casper’s back, then proceeded to start biting his neck. I’m an only child with a smallish family who had never done Christmas in a big way, but there was something about having two male cats tenderly humping in the corner of the room that made the occasion a little more festive.
Tom Cox
Loving cats wasn’t like loving skiing or comic books or arthouse films: when you walked into a pub, you usually didn’t feel the need to tell people about it, either stylistically or verbally. I didn’t try to hide the fact that I liked cats, it was just that a lot of the time it was hidden, by custom and by nature.” — Under the Paw: Confessions of a Cat Man, by Tom Cox
Tom Cox
Cats – by day the most docile of God’s creatures, every one of them in the night enlisting under the devil’s banner – took the place by storm after the human voice had ceased.
W.H. Davies
Cats have been all over the Internet for many years. This makes total sense, as they seem to spend half their lives trying to stand and sit on the keyboards of our laptops.
Tom Cox
Some were drawn towards displays of physical showboating, when it came to cats, while others preferred subtle intellectual stimulation.
Tom Cox
One of the good things about cats is that, unlike dogs, they don’t come up to you in the street and try to have sex with your leg.
Tom Cox
Cats, Dog considered, were clearly a lot tougher than lost souls
Terry Pratchett
The purr is very important. It's the purr that does it every time. It's the purr that makes up for the Things Under the Bed, the occasional pungency, the 4 a.m. yowl. Other creatures went in for big teeth, long legs or over-active brains, while cats just settled for a noise that tells the world they're feeling happy.
Terry Pratchett
If the trees and the plants are brothers, if the birds are my sisters, then cats are truly my kin.
Andrew Miller
He might be living on mice, but Chesterton does not look like an animal who is governed by his appetites. He's an ascetic, if Cathbad ever saw one.
Elly Griffiths
Tramps and vagabonds have marks they make on gateposts and trees and doors, letting others of their kind know a little about the people who live at the houses and farms they pass on their travels. I think cats must leave similar signs; how else to explain the cats who turn up at our door through the year, hungry and flea-ridden and abandoned?
Neil Gaiman
Er, excuse me,' said the man as Nanny Ogg turned away, 'but what is that on your shoulders?''It's. . . a fur collar,' said Nanny.'Excuse me, but I just saw it flick its tail.''Yes. I happen to believe in beauty without cruelty.
Terry Pratchett
Who shall tell the lady's griefWhen her Cat was past relief?Who shall number the hot tearsShed o'er her, beloved for years?Who shall say the dark dismayWhich her dying caused that day?
Christina Rossetti
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
Christopher Smart
You idiot!" She spat, flattening her ears. "What are you doing in my territory?""Drowning?" Replied Graystripe. "Can't you do that in your own territory?" "Ah, but who would rescue me there?
Erin Hunter
There was a sort of gallery structure in the roof space which held a bed and also a bathroom which you could actually swing a cat in. But only if it was a reasonably patient cat and didn’t mind a few nasty cracks about the head.
Douglas Adams
God I have been - God I am. But quite frankly, sometimes it is all just a little too much for one small cat.
Paul Gallico
Her ears, lightly fringed with white that looked silver, lifted and moved, back, forward, listening and sensing. Her face turned, slightly, after each new sensation, alert. Her tail moved, in another dimension, as if its tip was catching messages her other organs could not. She sat poised, air-light, looking, hearing, feeling, smelling, breathing, with all of her, fur, whiskers, ears -- everything, in delicate vibration.
Doris Lessing
In the morning, when she wishes me to wake, she crouches on my chest, and pats my face with her paw. Or, if I am on my side, she crouches looking into my face. Soft, soft touches of her paw. I open my eyes, say I don't want to wake. I close my eyes. Cat gently pats my eyelids. Cat licks my nose. Cat starts purring, two inches from my face. Cat, then, as I lie pretending to be asleep, delicately bites my nose. I laugh and sit up. At which she bounds off my bed and streaks downstairs -- to have the back door opened if it is winter, to be fed, if it is summer.
Doris Lessing
It takes me a while to drag him out, he's got himself stuck to the axle, and by the time I am done and stand over the body something strange has started to happen. The alley's filled with a half-dozen cats, runty little things with their ribs showing and their tails worn high like they're pointing to the moon. I stand there, breathing froth into the snowflakes and watch them gather round me, soft kitty paws, and now and then a patrol car rolls past in the distance. The cats are circling us, tails cocked at the moon, their muzzles bloodied by the tail lights' glow. They are vicious bastards, let me tell you: frost on their whiskers, eyes like cut glass, a half-dozen pairs, on me and the dead man. And then they start licking. Licking at the snow I mean, the blood in the snow, they lap it up like mother's milk. And all the while from their throats, from their whole bodies, there issues this sound, you hear it with your skin, it's like an engine running under your palm. That's when I realize they are purring, man, purring as they feed on the midget's death.
Dan Vyleta
Pluto was a well-known fixture in Bad Münstereifel, at least among those who lived in the old part of town. A large, foul-tempered, and unsterilized inky-black tomcat, he had once made it onto the front page of the local free paper (admittedly during a quiet week as regards other news) after a resident of the town accused him of making an unprovoked attack on her pet dachshund.
Helen Grant
At evening when the lamp is lit,The tired Human People sitAnd doze, or turn with solemn looksThe speckled pages of their books.Then I, the Dangerous Kitten, prowlAnd in the Shadows softly growl,And roam about the farthest floorWhere Kitten never trod before.And, crouching in the jungle damp,I watch the Human Hunter’s camp,Ready to spring with fearful roarAs soon as I shall hear them snore.And then with stealthy tread I crawlInto the dark and trackless hall,Where 'neath the Hat-tree's shadows deepUmbrellas fold their wings and sleep.A cuckoo calls — and to their densThe People climb like frightened hens,And I'm alone — and no one caresIn Darkest Africa — downstairs.
Oliver Herford
When I grow up I mean to beA Lion large and fierce to see.I'll mew so loud that Cook in fright Will give me all the cream in sight.And anyone who dares to say'Poor Puss' to me will rue the day.Then having swallowed him I'll creepInto the Guest Room Bed to sleep.
Oliver Herford
Cats, no less liquid than their shadows,Offer no angles to the wind.They slip, diminished, neat, through loopholesLess than themselves.
A.S.J. Tessimond
Cats, Dog considered, were clearly a lot tougher than lost souls.
Terry Pratchett
One grey cloak is much like another, just as all cats are grey in the dark.
Andrew Taylor
I love cats, they're great; intelligent, affectionate, lovable, and this one was particularly nice, so picking it up and giving it a few slaps and a bit of a rough time was galling, even though it was unfortunately necessary. See, if you're hiding in someone's spare bedroom waiting for them to turn in for the night, the last thing you need is a cat meowing at the door trying to get in to see you because you've been stroking it all day. A bit of a shake and a growl in the cat's face and that's all that's usually needed for it to give the spare room and the horrible bastard inside a wide berth for the rest of the night.
Danny King
One can imagine that if humanity suddenly disappeared from the planet, the cat would shrug its shoulders, raise its tail, and return to its forest habitat, there to live as its ancestors have done for two million years, forever in search of something small, furry, and squeaky to play with.
Eric Chaline
Sometimes I like her calm, unwild, gentle as a sleeping child,and wonder as she lies, a fur ring,curled upon my lap, unstirring -- is it me or Tibbles purring?
Ian Serraillier
It is common knowledge that 87% of the problems of the world are caused by cats. No cats, no problems."Hank the Cowdog
John Erickson
I sometimes think the Pussy-Willows greyAre Angel Kittens who have lost their way,And every Bulrush on the river bankA Cat-Tail from some lovely Cat astray.
Oliver Herford
The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat:If you offer him pheasant he would rather have grouse.If you put him in a house he would much prefer a flat,If you put him in a flat then he'd rather have a house.If you set him on a mouse then he only wants a rat,If you set him on a rat then he'd rather chase a mouse.Yes the Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat -And there isn't any call for me to shout it:For he will doAs he do doAnd there's no doing anything about it!
T.S Eliot
Bustopher Jones is not skin and bones — In fact, he's remarkably fat.He doesn't haunt pubs — he has eight or nine clubs,For he's the St. James's Street Cat!He's the Cat we all greet as he walks down the streetIn his coat of fastidious black:No commonplace mousers have such well-cut trousersOr such an impeccable back.In the whole of St. James's the smartest of names isThe name of this Brummell of Cats;And we're all of us proud to be nodded or bowed toBy Bustopher Jones in white spats!
T.S Eliot
He is quiet and small, he is blackFrom his ears to the tip of his tail;He can creep through the tiniest crackHe 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 believingThat he's only hunting for mice.He can play any trick with a corkOr a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;If you look for a knife or a forkAnd you think it is merely misplaced -You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn!But you'll find it next week lying out on the lawn.And we all say: OH!Well I never!Was there everA Cat so cleverAs Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!
T.S Eliot
The white saucer like some full moon descendsAt last from the clouds of the table above;She sighs and dreams and thrills and glows,Transfigured with love.She nestles over the shining rim,Buries her chin in the creamy sea;Her tail hangs loose; each drowsy pawIs doubled under each bending knee.A long, dim ecstasy holds her life;Her world is an infinite shapeless white,Till her tongue has curled the last holy drop,Then she sinks back into the night,Draws and dips her body to heapHer sleepy nerves in the great arm-chair,Lies defeated and buried deepThree or four hours unconscious there.
Harold Monro
Confront a child, a puppy, and a kitten with a sudden danger; the child will turn instinctively for assistance, the puppy will grovel in abject submission, the kitten will brace its tiny body for a frantic resistance.
Saki
If a fish is the movement of water embodied, given shape, then cat is a diagram and pattern of suble air.
Doris Lessing
Sunday, January 27, 1884. -- There was another story in the paper a week or so since. A gentleman had a favourite cat whom he taught to sit at the dinner table where it behaved very well. He was in the habit of putting any scraps he left onto the cat's plate. One day puss did not take his place punctually, but presently appeared with two mice, one of which it placed on its master's plate, the other on its own.
Beatrix Potter
No valentines from the cats again.
Lynne Truss
He was massive, a veritable Arnold Schwarzenegger of a cat, with a wide, handsome face and a proud, lionish expression.
Nicholas Dodman
Cat: a pygmy lion who loves mice, hates dogs, and patronizes human beings.
Oliver Herford
With Cats, some say, one rule is true:Don’t speak till you are spoken to.Myself, I do not hold with that —I say, you should ad-dress a Cat.But always keep in mind that heResents familiarity.I bow, and taking off my hat,Ad-dress him in this form: O Cat!But if he is the Cat next door,Whom I have often met before(He comes to see me in my flat)I greet him with an oopsa Cat!I think I've heard them call him James —But we've not got so far as names.
T.S Eliot
Gus is the Cat at the Theatre Door.His name, as I ought to have told you before,Is really Asparagus. That's such a fussTo pronounce, that we usually call him just Gus.His coat's very shabby, he's thin as a rake,And he suffers from palsy that makes his paw shake.Yet he was, in his youth, quite the smartest of Cats —But no longer a terror to mice or to rats.For he isn't the Cat that he was in his prime;Though his name was quite famous, he says, in his time.And whenever he joins his friends at their club(which takes place at the back of the neighbouring pub)He loves to regale them, if someone else pays,With anecdotes drawn from his palmiest days.For he once was a Star of the highest degree —He has acted with Irving, he's acted with Tree.And he likes to relate his success on the Halls,Where the Gallery once gave him seven cat-calls.But his grandest creation, as he loves to tell,Was Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell.
T.S Eliot
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -But it's useless to investigate - Mcavity's not there!And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:'It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away.You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,Or engaged in doing complicated long-division sums.Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.He always has an alibi, and one or two to spaer:At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the timeJust controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!
T.S Eliot
There are those who have suggested that the tendency of a cat to play with its prey is a merciful one...
Neil Gaiman
A woman hath nine lives like a cat.
John B. Heywood
What would you do if your cat suddenly went psycho and started to attack you for no apparent reason, lying in wait and pouncing or stalking you with a faraway look reminiscent of its predatory cousins and ancestors?
Nicholas Dodman