If Nightcloud were a gentle, loving cat like Leafpool, or feisty and warmhearted like Squirrelflight, it would be easier to feel sorry for her.

Well, I'm more lopsided than a one-legged badger.

Silverstream: You idiot!!! What are you doing in my territory??? Graystripe:...Drowning? Silverstream: Can't you do that in your own territory? Graystripe: Ah, but who would rescue me there?

We all have our flaws. But we overcome them. And sometimes, it's our flaws that make us who we are.

"Welcome to our camp!" Blackstar called, beckoning them with his tail. "Rest here and take your pick of the fresh-kill pile." "Who are you and what have you done with Blackstar?" Lionblaze muttered.

Think you have nine lives, do you? I saved you once.... don't make me save you again.

It's coming, a battle between Starclan and The Dark Forest and every warrior will be called upon to fight.

Keep your eyes open, Fireheart. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day I'll find you, and then you'll be crowfood.

You're a medicine cat. I understand what that means now. StarClan go with you, Leafpool. I'll never forget you.

He was desperate to tell his news to some other cat; he almost felt that if a mouse crossed his path he would stop to inform it that it was about to be eaten by a ThunderClan deputy.

You're going to find Tigerstar. Against that fiend, every cat is helpless.

Male sexual response is far brisker and more automatic. It is triggered easily by things - like putting a quarter in a vending machine.

I started off wanting very much to be a newscaster.

I never do pictures that I've done before - but I really try not to. Whenever I get an assignment I try to think how to shoot this person for this story in this magazine at this point in time.

Happens to me all the time...People are always underestimating my dumbness.

I'm a good person but a shitty writer. You're a shitty person but a good writer. We'd make a good team.

Any sport that comes from Scotland is good!

What madness it is for a man to starve himself to enrich his heir, and so turn a friend into an enemy! For his joy at your death will be proportioned to what you leave him.

You can do a million different funks from a million different people and you'll never get anything exactly alike - that's what's so beautiful about it.