“Picture a tall, dark figure, surrounded by cornfields...NO, YOU CAN'T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG.Picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves...DON'T ASK ME I DON'T KNOW. SOME KIND OF TERRIER, MAYBE....fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze...RIGHT, AND THE DEATH OF FLEAS CAN RIDE IT TOO. THAT WAY YOU KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE....awaiting the clockwork of the seasons.METAPHORICALLY.”

“Can I ask a question, sir?" said Maurice, as Death turned to go.You May Not Get An Answer."I suppose there isn't a Big Cat in the Sky, is there?"I'm Surprised At You, Maurice. Of Course There Are No Cat Gods. That Would Be Too Much Like...Work.Maurice nodded. One good thing about being a cat, apart from the extra lives, was that the theology was a lot simpler.”

“Over the field rang his clear voice calling: ‘Death! Ride, ride to ruin and the world’s ending!”

“WHO KNOWS WHAT EVIL LURKS IN THE HEART OF MEN?The Death of Rats looked up from the feast of the potato. SQUEAK, he said.Death waved a hand dismissively. WELL, YES, OBVIOUSLY ME, he said. I JUST WONDERED IF THERE WAS ANYONE ELSE.”

“You call yourself some kind of goddess and you know nothing, madam, nothing. What don't die can't live. What don't live can't change. What don't change can't learn. The smallest creature that dies in the grass knows more than you.”

“You saying killing a rat would be murder?" said Raufman."Yes. Of course.""But it's just - ""Talk to the paw, mister, 'cos the whiskers don't want to know!”

“I hate cats."Death's face became a little stiffer, if that were possible. The blue glow in his eye sockets flickered red for an instant."I SEE," he said. The tone suggested that death was too good for cat haters.”