A Quote by Drew Barrymore
If I die before my cat, I want a little of my ashes put in his food so I can live inside him.
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Cat food. It stinks a bit, but if you don't put up with the smell, the little kitten will die.
I know it's not cat food, but what exactly is it that they put inside of tinned ravioli?
Before a Cat will condescend To treat you as a trusted friend, Some little token of esteem Is needed, like a dish of cream; And you might now and then supply Some caviare, or Strassburg Pie, Some potted grouse, or salmon paste — He's sure to have his personal taste. (I know a Cat, who makes a habit Of eating nothing else but rabbit, And when he's finished, licks his paws So's not to waste the onion sauce.) A Cat's entitled to expect These evidences of respect. And so in time you reach your aim, And finally call him by his name.
People who live in North Korea, they die for food, but living in the free world, the cat even eats expensive sushi.
We're gonna try to have the baby a little while before we name it. We don't want to put it out there, like try and turn him into something before we meet the kid. We want to get a feel for who this kid is before we name him.
He was breathing, which is always a good sign. As gently as I could I picked him up, placed him on the towel, wrapped it around him, and put him in my car. I drove to the emergency clinic, the cat purring on the seat beside me. “What’s his name?” the young man at the front desk asked as my towel and cat were whisked to a back room. “Uh…John Tomkins,” I said. “That’s different,” the receptionist said, writing it down. “He was a pirate,” I said. “I mean Tomkins. I don’t know about the cat. (...)
I look at the tattoo inside my left wrist. It's my brother's name, he committed suicide two years ago. Just before the second anniversary of his death, I tattooed his name. I miss him, of course, and I decided I would live for me, and for him.
A lifetime is so little a time that we die before we get ready to live. I should like to study at a college, but then I have to say to myself: "You will die before you can do anything else".
There's a big difference, I discovered, between wanting to die and not wanting to live. When you want to die, you at least have a goal. When you don't want to live, you're really just empty. That's the point I was at before I was able to make.
Enjoy the elastic present, which can accommodate as little or as much as you want to put in there. Stretch it out, live inside of it.
Oh cat, I'd say, or pray: be-ootiful cat! Delicious cat! Exquisite cat! Satiny cat! Cat like a soft owl, cat with paws like moths, jewelled cat, miraculous cat! Cat, cat, cat, cat.
The Greatest Happiness is to scatter your enemy and drive him before you. To see his cities reduced to ashes. To see those who love him shrouded and in tears. And to gather to your bosom his wives and daughters.
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 he Resents 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.
I’ll never die", he said. Before I could protest, Lucas put two fingers on my lips, his smile seemed to fill the room with lights and I realized he was telling a deeper kind of truth then I’d ever known before “You’ll live forever and being remembered by you is the only immortality I’ll ever need if I only live on as a part of you – Bianca, that’s my idea of heaven
Where is it I've read that someone condemned to death says or thinks, an hour before his death, that if he had to live on some high rock, on such a narrow ledge that he'd only room to stand, and the ocean, everlasting darkness, everlasting solitude, everlasting tempest around him, if he had to remain standing on a square yard of space all his life, a thousand years, eternity, it were better to live so than to die at once. Only to live, to live and live! Life, whatever it may be!
I imagined a psychic pain growing inside him (myself) that demanded some physical outlet. Suicide must have been his attempt to give Pain a body, a representation, to put it outside himself. A need to convert inner torment into some outward tangible wound that all could see. It was almost as though suicide were a last-ditch effort at exorcism, in which the person sacrificed his life in order that the devil inside might die.
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