Quotes from Lilian Jackson Braun

Cats never strike a pose that isn't photogenic.

No one had ever accused Koko of being naughty. Perverse, perhaps, or arrogant, or despotic. But naughtiness was beneath his dignity.

My days keep getting shorter. When I'm a hundred, I'll be going to bed before I get up.

There's only one way I can explain it: She had bequeathed me her love of words. She was a librarian.

Amanda raised her glass in a toast. "Here's a wet one to Saint Iris of the Hummocks!" Then she winced and scowled at Riker, who had kicked her under the table. Polly raised her glass and quoted from Hamlet: "And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

it's unsportsmanlike to engage in a battle of wits with anyone who is obviously unarmed.

No one ever owns a cat," he corrected her. "You share a common habitation on a basis of equal rights and mutual respect . . . although somehow the cat always comes out ahead of the deal. Siamese particularly have a way of getting the upper hand.

The dance of life should be created from moment to moment with individuality and spontaneity.

It was a man's salad, zesty and full of crunch.

The cranks are always with us," Qwilleran said, "hiding behind trees, peeking around corners, going about in disguise, and plotting their selfish little schemes.

spread the rumor and, before anyone knows, it's a fact

certain element—a few crazies—that don't have anything to do. They shot out two streetlights on Goodwinter Boulevard last night. When I was a kid we smashed pumpkins and strung trees with toilet paper on Halloween, but this new generation does it all year round.

I'm a gypsy at heart," Qwilleran said. "Home is where I hang my toothbrush and where the cats have their commode. See you tonight.

When a cat, who is a picture of grace and beauty, suddenly rolls over in a hideous posture, contorts his face and scratches his ear, he is telling you, sir, to go to blazes!

He also entered a bookstore called "Books 'n' Stuff," that stocked more videos and greeting cards than books. Furthermore, its supermarket lighting and background music discouraged browsing. Qwilleran had his own ideas about the correct ambiance for a bookstore: dim, quiet, and slightly dusty.

Jaunti, who was half Qwilleran's age, now had the gall to write a column of wit and wisdom from the Delphic heights of his adolescent ignorance.

And Koko's behavior has been abnormal since we moved in. He's always talking to himself and staring into space.' 'He's talking to ghosts,' Roger said with a straight face.

Then one day he sent her a single long-stemmed rose with the famous Hfez of Shrz poem that you probably know." She recited the lines from the thirteenth-century poem: Give never the wine bowl from thy hand Nor loose thy grasp on the rose's stem 'Tis a mad bad world that the fates have planned. Match wits with their every strategem!

We call this building the Architects' Revenge. The balconies are designed to be too sunny, too windy, and too dirty. The cinders that hurtle through my living room are capable of putting out an eyeball. But it's a good address. Some of the best people live in this building, several of them blind in one eye.

Never before had he met anyone who knew, or cared, that it was Chesterfield who said: Let blockheads read what blockheads wrote.

The sky was Alice blue (one

As a disinterested third

There was a game they played at dinner. The word "delicious" was out of bounds. On this occasion the eggs were robust, the grilled salmon was succulent, the salad had verve, Polly's blackberry cobbler had zest, and Qwilleran's seven-layer chocolate cake had a certain nobility.

That clan always had deep pockets and shorrrt arrrms.