The cat . . . is for the man who appreciates beauty as the one living force in a blind and purposeless universe.

The cat is such a perfect symbol of beauty and superiority that it seems scarcely possible for any true aesthete and civilised cynic to do other than worship it.

The cool, lithe, cynical, and unconquered lord of the housetops.

What's the point of being a grown-up if you don't get to be immature?

Rebecca woke up with her knees hurting and her fingers ice-cold, and the specifics of her life returned to her as the dream disappeared: weekend, hotel room, Baguio, memory, memory, memory.

Great people never sleep because their dreams keep them awake and striving.

Home was more about people than a place.

The beauty of modesty ... a virtue the world doesn't have much truck with: one ordinary flower in a vase, as opposed to a bouquet.

I might lie a lot but never in my lyrics.

The girls everyone considers the "prettiest" are not always the most interesting or ambitious people.

Shee spins well that breedes her children.

I'm not creating the universe. I'm creating a model of the universe, which may or may not be true.

I have a very ostrich mentality. I feel like I have my head in the sand so no one can see me.