Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages.
Nothing shows both polish and utility like the nattily tucked pocket handkerchief or 'pocket square' in the breast pocket of a man's blazer, sport coat, or suit jacket.
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.
A handkerchief can never be put in another pocket after it has been in one pocket. I don't walk under ladders. I have items of clothing that are lucky for me. That rotates, but I am luck-oriented.
The cat does not offer services. The cat offers itself. Of course he wants care and shelter. You don't buy love for nothing.
You have a handkerchief, put it in your pocket.
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?
I have before suggested that a genuine blackguard is never without a pocket-handkerchief.
Women have hunger two-fold, shyness four-fold, daring six-fold, and lust eight-fold as compared to men.
I sometimes shy away because I don't want to be too 'showy-offy' but the older I get I think, 'You have a handkerchief, put it in your pocket.'
To despair over one's sins indicates that sin has become or wants to be internally consistent. It wants nothing to do with the good, does not want to be so weak as to listen occasionally to other talk. No, it insists on listening only to itself, on having dealings only with itself; it closes itself up within itself, indeed, locks itself inside one more inclosure, and protects itself against every attack or pursuit by the good by despairing over sin.
Take my handkerchief, Scarlett. Never, at any crisis of your life, have I known you to have a handkerchief.
Lust: Which senator once reached for a handkerchief in his pocket and proceeded to wipe his brow with a pair of women's panties?
I feel like you can't trust a cat. I feel like a cat's got an ulterior motive. The moment you show any weakness to a cat, the cat is gonna take over.
In places like Glasgow and Newcastle, audiences have a tradition of being amusingly combative. But they're not trying to ruin the act, they're trying to give you a challenge. It's like a cat playing with a mouse - the cat doesn't want the mouse to die, it wants to keep it alive for its own amusement and to be entertained by its struggle.
I think comics will always be around. I think there's something nice about a comic book. People love to hold 'em, turn the pages, fold 'em up, roll 'em up, stick 'em in their back pocket, show 'em to a friend, and say, "Hey, look at this."