A Quote by Florence King

In 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,' I couldn't take my eyes off Judith Anderson as Big Mama. — © Florence King
In 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,' I couldn't take my eyes off Judith Anderson as Big Mama.
While you might see a cat on a hot tin roof, a dog on a hot tin roof would be yowling its head off.
I played Big Mama in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof when I was 20 years old at the University of Michigan.
I played Big Mama in 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' when I was 20 years old at the University of Michigan.
Like a cat on a hot tin roof.
The big one I missed out on was 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.' MGM wanted me for it, and Warner Bros. wouldn't give me permission to do it.
Nothing's more determined than a cat on a hot tin roof.
What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof? - I wish I knew... Just staying on it, I guess, as long as she can.
When I was a kid I used to go to the movies, double features in outdoor theaters, and my parents used to take us to see like, 'Cat On a Hot Tin Roof' or something like that, with Elizabeth Taylor.
I was the first African-American woman to play Maggie in 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.' It was at the Virginia State Theatre, and we turned Richmond upside down.
I grew up in a small town, in a small community, and I would not have had access to great plays when I was a kid were it not for the films of 'Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?' and 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.'
I used to come down from New Rochelle and go to Radio City. They'd have a floor show and a movie. I'm showing my age, but I saw 'Cat on a Hot Tin Roof' and 'Broken Arrow' with Jimmy Stewart. It was a great way for a kid to see a movie.
Steve Bruce is like a cat on hot tin bricks.
Oh, you weak, beautiful people who give up with such grace. What you need is someone to take hold of you--gently, with love, and hand your life back to you, like something gold you let go of--and I can! I'm determined to do it--and nothing's more determined than a cat on a tin roof--is there?
On the mainland, a rain was falling. The famous Seattle rain. The thin, gray rain that toadstools love. The persistent rain that knows every hidden entrance into collar and shopping bag. The quiet rain that can rust a tin roof without the tin roof making a sound in protest. The shamanic rain that feeds the imagination. The rain that seems actually a secret language, whispering, like the ecstasy of primitives, of the essence of things.
This morning I lay in the bathtub thinking how wonderful it would be if I had a dog like Rin Tin Tin. I'd call him Rin Tin Tin too, and I'd take him to school with me, where he could stay in the janitor's room or by the bicycle racks when the weather was good.
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.
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