The Cat Is A Dilettante In Fur.

The Years I Have Squandered In Puerile Excitement, In Going Hither And Thither, In Seeking To Force Nature And Time, I Ought To Have Spent In Solitude And Meditation, In Endeavoring To Make Myself Worthy Of Being Loved.

Books Follow Morals, And Not Morals Books.

Yes I Have Loved, As No One On Earth Ever Loved, With An Insensate And Furious Love, So Violent That I Wonder It Did Not Break My Heart

It Is Difficult To Obtain The Friendship Of A Cat. It Is A Philosophical Animal... One That Does Not Place Its Affections Thoughtlessly.

Fortune Loves To Give Bedroom Slippers To People With Wooden Legs, And Gloves To Those With No Hands.