“No, she who rides the tiger can never dismount!”

“Those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside”

“It reminds him of a tale the elder monks told him once, when he was a youngster: the Last Ride of the Tiger Tickler. There was, according to fiction, a man who came upon an untended tiger cub. He took it home and raised it, and, when it was fully grown, he took to riding into town on its back. He steered the beast with a silk handkerchief: he’d lean forward and flick the tiger’s left or right ear to make it turn, or brush its nose to make it start or stop. Of course, the tiger, brought up on milk and honey lapped from a bowl held in the kind man’s hands, didn’t know any better, so he went along with it. Disregarding the tiresome details of the tale, when the Tiger Tickler mistakenly rides into town on a different tiger, who despite similar build and markings has a radically different opinion as to the rightful place of mankind (namely in, not on), everybody gets eaten up.”

“Face it, Nat, this is one tiger who will never be jumping through your flaming hoop--”

“The tiger will never lie down with the lamb; he acknowledges no pact that is not reciprocal. The lamb must learn to run with the tigers.”

“Honor and duty will ride upon my shoulders till the day I die, like the old man of the sea, who once picked up can never be put dow.”