Cat Sleeping Quotes & Sayings

A sleeping cat is ever alert. — Fred Schwab

I've never been on safari because I've got a phobia of bugs. I just don't want things crawling on me when I'm sleeping. It's a shame given my passion for big cats. But I really enjoy photography, so I'd love to photograph leopards in the wild some day. — Jackie Collins

Will you allow this, Keir of the Cat?"

Keir's face was bland, but I could see the storm in his eyes. After a long moment, he turned to me. "Lara?"

"My oaths require that I treat any that ask it of me," I responded. "You are my Warlord, Keir of the Cat. I respect that you are concerned for my safety. Please respect my oaths in return. Besides," I smiled at him, "it's a tent. If I so much as breathe hard, you will slash your way to my side."

He gave me a look then, an unhappy look, to be sure. But I raised my eyebrows at him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. "Very well. As my Warprize requests."

Essa struggled to his feet. "Please refrain from slashing your way through my tent, Warlord." He walked toward what must be his sleeping area. "This way, Warprize. — Elizabeth Vaughan

Look, cat, you and I are never going to be friends. She's going to
call you Max, but I'm going to call you Shit Head. And if you think for
one second - " The cat lies down in a tight little ball of nastiness and
falls asleep. "Oh, please. Make yourself at home by sleeping on my
scrotum." I peek out into the sitting room area that connects to the
four bedrooms, and then glance back at the kitten. Releasing a sigh of
discontent, I pet Shit Head with one finger. He purrs extra hard, and
I find myself wondering if I could train him to do things. Every hero
needs a sidekick, and I'm nothing if not a Grade-A Hero.
- Dante Walker — Victoria Scott

One of the ways in which cats show happiness is by sleeping. — Cleveland Amory

You ever find a cat sleeping in a ray of sun? There's a sound over there. It's a golden sound. That's the only way to describe it. It's a bright sound, and it has little flecks of music in it, drifting like motes of dust. And you just know if you let that sound get inside you, if you hummed along with it, you'd rest like a cat in the sun. A perfect rest. You could rest a billion years. — Joe Hill

You can't look at a sleeping cat and be tense. — Jane Pauley

She's a nice girl and she doesn't deserve to be used as a pawn in my father's fucked-up game."
"I'm sorry she's involved and I'm sorry I got you involved. We'll find the money some other way."
Zane wanted to believe what John said, but how they were going to do that, he had no clue.
Alright, we'll figure it out when I get there."
"You on your way back tonight? John asked.
"Yeah, I just need to call Missy, and, hell, I don't know ... apologize, I guess."
"Apologize for sleeping with her because your father told you to? Are you sure you want to do that?" John asked.
"No, I didn't sleep with her." Zane could imagine how bad he'd feel if he had.
"You didn't have sex with girl?" There was shock in Rick's voice.
"What's the matter? Was she ugly? — Cat Johnson

It may be laid down as a general rule that if a man begins to sing, no one will take any notice of his song except his fellow human beings. This is true even if his song is surpassingly beautiful. Other men may be in raptures at his skill, but the rest of creation is, by and large, unmoved. Perhaps a cat or a dog may look at him; his horse, if it is an exceptionally intelligent beast, may pause in cropping the grass, but that is the extent of it. But when the fairy sang, the whole world listened to him. Stephen felt clouds pause in their passing; he felt sleeping hills shift and murmur; he felt cold mists dance. He understood for the first time that the world is not dumb at all, but merely waiting for someone to speak to it in a language it understands. In the fairy's song the earth recognized the names by which it called itself. — Susanna Clarke

Cats like sleeping and resting on intersections. There are many stories about magical animals but really, apart from the dragon, the cat is the only creature which can absorb the force. No one knows why a cat absorbs it and what it does with it ... — Andrzej Sapkowski

Not only have I been an old maid since my eighteenth birthday, but I'm driving the bandwagon for old maids of America. I might even start an Alliance. Of course, there will be a four-cat minimum for admittance into to organization. Bonus points if you live with your mother. A spot on the board if she happens to be a battle-ax that prefers pond scum sleeping next to her at night. — Addison Moore

As my cat would say, all hours are good for sleeping. — Jose Saramago

Who said anything about sleeping? I'm talking about sex. Good sex. Lots of it."
That puts a flush on her pretty cheeks and she laughs. "I don't want to have sex with you."
I pat her hand. "Now you're just being silly. The cat-and-mouse game can be tantalizing, but it's not necessary." My voice drops to a whisper. "I'm a sure thing. — Emma Chase

His little black-and-white cat with the black-and-white wings would fly through the rooms sometimes, but most often it would be discovered sleeping somewhere where it was most inconvenient for it to sleep. And — Michael Moorcock

The end was always curled up there between us, like a sleeping cat, present even in our love-making. — Barbara Kingsolver

Now read again: The cat, is sleeping. Let me repeat it, so that there is no cause for ambiguity: The cat comma is sleeping. The cat, is sleeping. Would you be so kind as, to sign for. On the one hand we have an example of a prodigious use of the comma that takes great liberties with language, as said commas have been inserted quite unnecessarily, but to great effect: — Muriel Barbery

Only once did I perceive a human being, and that was at the intersection of our crossroad with the wide, white turnpike which cuts each cultivated district longitudinally at its exact center. The fellow must have been sleeping beside the road, for, as I came abreast of him, he raised upon one elbow and after a single glance at the approaching caravan leaped shrieking to his feet and fled madly down the road, scaling a nearby wall with the agility of a scared cat. The Tharks paid him not the slightest attention; they were not out upon the warpath, and the only sign that I had that they had seen him was a quickening of the pace of the caravan as we hastened toward the bordering desert which marked our entrance into the realm of Tal Hajus. — Edgar Rice Burroughs

... I can taste her in the air, I can feel her
at my fingertips, I can see sidewalks built
for her feet to walk upon,
I can see pillows for her head,
I can feel my waiting laughter,
I can see her petting a cat,
I can see her sleeping,
I can see her slippers on the floor.
I know that she exists
but where is she upon this earth. — Charles Bukowski

I need a good woman. I need a good woman
more than I need this typewriter, more than
I need my automobile, more than I need
Mozart; I need a good woman so badly that I
can taste her in the air, I can feel her
at my fingertips, I can see sidewalks built
for her feet to walk upon,
I can see pillows for her head,
I can feel my waiting laughter,
I can see her petting a cat,
I can see her sleeping,
I can see her slippers on the floor. — Charles Bukowski

Indeed, there is nothing on this earth more peaceful than a sleeping, purring cat. — Jonathon Scott Payne

Dorothy viewed my mother's propensity toward madness not as something to be afraid of, but rather as something to look forward to, like a movie or a newly released color of nail polish.
'Your mother is just expressing herself,' Dorothy would tell me when my mother stopped sleeping, started smoking the filters of her cigarettes and began writing backward with a glitter pen.
No, she's not,' I would say. 'She's going insane again.'
Don't be so mundane,' she would yawn, passing my mother a shoebox filled with cat vertebrae. 'She is a brilliant artist. If you want Hamburger Helper, go find some other mother. — Augusten Burroughs

I would enjoy doing what cats do: singing, sleeping, and licking my nuts. — Jason Mraz

Maggie sipped her drink with the cat draped across her lap and the dog curled at her feet. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire and Dan Sean's shallow snores. There were no CD's to play, no radio, no television. There was nothing. She was just sitting there in silence, getting drunk. It occurred to her that a person's first drunken experience shoud be in the basement of a friend's house, in a forest preserve, behind the bleachers of a football field. Certainly not in the company of a sleeping ninety-nine-year-old man. She giggled a little and wondered what Uncle Kevin would make of it. "Hot port?" he would say. "Very impressive, Mags. I would have thought you'd be more of a wine cooler type of girl. — Jessie Ann Foley

Pretty soon three sleeping bags formed a triangle in the master bedroom. The father was the hypotenuse. The girl asked him to brush out her hair, which he did while the boy ate a tangerine, peeling it up close to his face, inhaling the mist. Then he held each segment to the light to find seeds. In his lap, cat paws fluttered like dreaming eyes. What — Amy Hempel

In the Hautes-Alpes region, it was still believed in 1962 that witches often assumed animal form and entered houses through the chimneys, keyholes, or cat doors. When in the form of a cat, it would sit on the chests of those who were sleeping and press down on them, preventing their breathing. — Claude Lecouteux

Each of us carries a sleeping tiger inside, and we can't predict when that cat will wake, stretch, and sharpen its claws. — Holly Robinson

Listening out for the sound of [his parent's] return kept him suspended in a semi-permanent state of agitation just like an apparently sleeping cat whose ear radar never rests. — Jon Edgell

Guilt isn't in cat vocabulary. They never suffer remorse for eating too much, sleeping too long or hogging the warmest cushion in the house. They welcome every pleasurable moment as it unravels and savour it to the full until a butterfly or falling leaf diverts their attention. They don't waste energy counting the number of calories they've consumed or the hours they've frittered away sunbathing.
Cats don't beat themselves up about not working hard enough. They don't get up and go, they sit down and stay. For them, lethargy is an art form. From their vantage points on top of fences and window ledges, they see the treadmills of human obligations for what they are - a meaningless waste of nap time. — Helen Brown

Just sleep here." At my sharp look he laughs. "I'll take the floor, and I'll get you to your job on time. I promise."

"You're full of promises." But the thought of sleeping in a soft bed with warm blankets is appealing. And I understand Jannik now. I'm his symbol of hope, his reason to believe that one day he too can throw off the shackles of his family. — Cat Hellisen

You cannot look at a sleeping cat and feel tense. — Jane Pauley

What is easily the most dangerous spot cats choose for sleeping? Beneath our feet-sprawled out in hallways or in doorways, tails predictably extended just to be stepped on. — Arnold Hano

I grew up around poets and novelists and my dad wrote poems about everything - from a cat sleeping in a window to a car wreck he passed on the highway. I learned not to censor myself: that was one of things I learned in my apprenticeship, my creative-writing apprenticeship with my dad. — Lucinda Williams