“I’m a cat. We aren’t required to make sense.”

“I require something so horrifically alcoholic that it makes livers tremble with fear and run for their lives when its name is uttered.”

“Tybalt’s what we call ‘Cait Sidhe’— the fairy cats. Which explains the attitude. And the eyes.” “Meow,” said Tybalt, deadpan.”

“Cats never listen. They’re dependable that way; when Rome burned, the emperor’s cats still expected to be fed on time.”

“When Rome burned, the emperor's cats still expected to be fed on time.”

“Who would come for her?" he snarled, rallying. Behind me, a voice shouted, "Tybalt, King of Cats. My claim precedes yours.”

“Nothing lasts forever. That's the tragedy and the miracle of existence—that everything is impermanent. Everything changes. All we can do is make the best of the time we have. And go down shooting, naturally. —Enid Healy”