Moved And Cat Quotes & Sayings

The cat's not hurting you, Oscar. Get a grip."
"Mistress, make it stop looking at me!"
I pulled up to a stoplight and assessed my posse.
"Cat, stop it. Oscar doesn't want to be your friend." At the sound of my voice, the feline shifted it's gaze to me.
"There," I said to Oscar. "All better."
Keeping its eyes on me, the cat moved with stealthy determination, climbing into Oscar's lap.
"Mistress!"
"Stop it, both of ya'll," I said as the light changed. — Juliet Blackwell

I'd been about to say something...something...about human naivety...and the fact we had no fundamental right to happiness...or something...but his hand moved over my thigh, fingers brushing my cock through my trousers, and my breath hitched and my thoughts scattered, and I did not mourn them. He pushed me back onto the kitchen floor, crawling over me like some mountain cat stalking its prey. — Alexis Hall

My parents ... are more like cats. They accidentally had a litter of kittens, and then emotionally moved on to whatever ball of yarn rolled past their line of sight. — Jenny Mollen

I only know two cats in this business that really had it all; Elvis was one of those guys, the other was Ricky Nelson. There was a difference in those two guys though. Elvis moved ... Ricky never had to; he stood flat footed and captivated his audience with his good looks. We grew up with him; those who didn't missed something. History books are gonna have to say that he played a big role in Rock 'n' Roll music ... and he did it his way. — Carl Perkins

Yukiko rolled over.
That plain, that simple.
Her body was small in its moving.
And her hair followed, dreaming her as she moved.
A cat, her cat, in bed with her was awakened by her moving, and watched her turn slowly over in bed. When she stopped moving, the cat went back to sleep.
It was a black cat and could have been a suburb of her hair. — Richard Brautigan

Books can be possessive, can't they? You're walking around in a bookstore and a certain one will jump out at you, like it had moved there on its own, just to get your attention. Sometimes what's inside will change your life, but sometimes you don't even have to read it. Sometimes it's a comfort just to have a book around. Many of these books haven't even had their spines cracked. 'Why do you buy books you don't even read?' our daughter asks us. That's like asking someone who lives alone why they bought a cat. For company, of course. — Sarah Addison Allen

I just moved into a new house, so I love spending time at home. Everything for me is all about self-care because I really feel that if I'm at my best, than I'm able to come to my job and really be feeling the best, so if I'm not working out or going on a hike, than I'm at home recharging and cooking dinner and hanging out with my cat. — Lea Michele

The trees around and overhead were so thick that it was always dry inside and on Sunday morning I lay there with Jonas, listening to his stories. All cat stories start with the statement: "My mother, who was the first cat, told me this," and I lay with my head close to Jonas and listened. There was no change coming, I thought here, only spring; I was wrong to be so frightened. The days would get warmer, and Uncle Julian would sit in the sun, and Constance would laugh when she worked in the garden, and it would always be the same. Jonas went on and on ("And then we sang! And then we sang!") and the leaves moved overhead and it would always be the same. — Shirley Jackson

If there was any petting to be done ... he chose to do it. Often he would sit looking at me, and then, moved by a delicate affection, come and pull at my coat and sleeve until he could touch my face with his nose, and then go away contented. — Charles Dudley Warner

I need but say that my most vivid impression in that respect was a mere trifle: one day, on Million Street in St. Petersburg, a truck packed with jolly rioters made a clumsy but accurate swerve so as to deliberately squash a passing cat which remained lying there, as a perfectly flat, neatly ironed, black rag (only the tail still belonged to a cat
it stood upright, and the tip, I think, still moved). At the time this struck me with some deep occult meaning, but I have since have occasion to see a bus, in a bucolic Spanish village, flatten by exactly the same method an exactly similar cat, so I have become disenchanted with hidden meanings. — Vladimir Nabokov

Achilles was looking at me. "Your hair never quite lies flat, here." He touched my head, just behind my ear. "I don't think I've ever told you how I like it."
My scalp prickled where his fingers had been. "You haven't," I said.
"I should have." His hand drifted down to the vee at the base of my throat, drew softly across the pulse. "What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here?"
"No," I said.
"This surely then." His hand moved across the muscles of my chest; my skin warmed beneath it. "Have I told you of this?"
"That you have told me." My breath caught a little as I spoke.
"And what of this?" His hand lingered over my hips, drew down the line of my thigh. "Have I spoken of it?"
"You have."
"And this? Surely I would not have forgotten this." His cat's smile. "Tell me I did not."
"You did not."
"There is this too." His hand was ceaseless now. "I know I have told you of this."
I closed my eyes. "Tell me again," I said. — Madeline Miller

In fact, he moved with a lithe grace that put her in mind of a cat. A black and rather feral cat, quite evidently up to no good. — Vanessa Kelly

one day Manuel returned to the place, and
she was gone -
no argument, no note, just
gone, all her clothes
all her stuff, and
Manuel sat by the window and looked out
and didn't make his job
the next day or the
next day or
the day after, he
didn't phone in, he
lost his job, got a
ticket for parking, smoked
four hundred and sixty cigarettes, got
picked up for common drunk, bailed
out, went
to court and pleaded
guilty.

when the rent was up he
moved from Beacon street, he
left the cat and went to live with
his brother and
they'd get drunk
every night
and talk about how
terrible
life was.

Manuel never again smoked
long slim cigars
because Shirley always said
how
handsome he looked
when he did. — Charles Bukowski

Cyril had staked out his claim and refused to move. "Move over!" I said, freeing one hand from holding the cat to push. "Dogs are supposed to sleep at the foot of the bed." Cyril had never heard of this rule. He jammed his body up against my back and began to snore. I tugged at the rugs, trying to get enough to cover me, and turned on my side, the cat cradled in my arms. Princess Arjumand paid no attention to the regulations of animals on the bed either. She promptly wriggled free and walked round the bed, treading on Cyril, who responded with a faint "oof," and kneading her claws in my leg. Cyril shoved and shoved again until he had the entire bed and all the covers, and Princess Arjumand draped herself across my neck with her full weight on my Adam's apple. Cyril shoved some more. An hour into this little drama it began to rain in earnest, and everyone moved in under the covers and began jockeying for position again. — Connie Willis

Justus tried to make an objective assessment of Miguel. What was the big deal with him, anyway? So he was easy on the eyes. Actually that was an understatement; he was for female eyes, a virtual feast. He was a perfect physical specimen, and very sensual. He seemed to positively ooze sex and eroticism with his every move, look, and touch. Justus turned her head toward him to steal a glance at his profile, but he caught her looking at him.
His eyes were so arresting, they were a dark, fierce green, like beautiful shining emeralds. She also noticed flecks of gold laced through them, reminiscent of cat's eyes. Not any ordinary house cat, these were the eyes of a wild predator.
He was a panther; with his black hair and green eyes and the way he moved, so gracefully, yet with definite strength and agility. She sighed to herself, so much for her objectivity. — Amanda Bretz

With the suddneness of a cat leaping upon its prey, he leaned forward and caught up her wrist. "Tread lightly, Miranda Fair." His thumb moved lightly over her fluttering pulse, as she stared with her mouth assuredly hanging open in shock, her heart beating furiously within her breast."You know, it's never wise to tempt the devil." His gaze lowered to her hand, still locked in his grip, her fingers glistening with pear juice. "Had I not this mask, I should be of a mind to suck that juice right off of your fingers. — Kristen Callihan

And then there is the black cat. Who has no other name than the Black Cat and who turned up almost a month ago. We did not realize he was going to be living here at first: he looked too well fed to be a stray, too old and jaunty to have been abandoned. He looked like a small panther, and he moved like a patch of night.

One day, in the summer, he was lurking about our ramshackle porch: eight or nine years old, at a guess, male, greenish-yellow of eye, very friendly, quite unperturbable. I assumed he belonged to a neighboring farmer or household.

I went away for a few weeks, to finish writing a book, and when I came home he was still on our porch, living in an old cat ben one of the children had found for him. He was, however, almost unrecognizable. Patches of fur had gone, and there were deep scratches on his gray skin. The tip of one ear was chewed away. There was a gash beneath one eye, s lice gone from one lip. He looked tired and thin. — Neil Gaiman

Clever, clever cat.
He knew precisely what to say.
And how to touch, she acknowledged, as his fingers moved from her ass to trace the curve of her waist.
"My need for dominance doesn't bother you?" she pressed, knowing his answer was important.
Her cat would never be happy in a subservient role.
"Let's say I'm willing to compromise," he said, the rasp of his breath filling the air. "I don't always have to be on top. — Alexandra Ivy

I couldn't get my mind off you all day." He spoke as he yanked her shirt over her head, right where she stood. Once that was gone, he moved his hands down to unfasten her jeans. He pushed them and her underwear to the floor in one motion. "I mowed that whole damn hayfield with a hard-on because of you. — Cat Johnson

Mr. Cat and Mr. Dog were neighbors who fought like, well, cats and dogs. That is until Mr. Rat moved in. It's fascinating how easily two enemies ally at the introduction of a third. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Closing my eyes, I lowered the wall around my Mori.
'Are you okay? Did I hurt you?'
'Solmi hurt', it replied, still a little upset.
I almost rolled my eyes. One-track mind. 'Solmi is okay', I assured it. 'Did the glow burn you?'
'No burn'. The demon moved forward a little. 'Again?' It asked eagerly.
'Not yet. Soon.'
I opened my eyes and stared at the pretty little lake as I tried to make sense of it all. For the first time, I left the wall down, and my Mori and I sat quietly together, not joined, but as companions. I sighed in contentment. 'This is nice, demon. I could get used to this.'
It curled up like a happy cat. 'Me too. — Karen Lynch

Nothing to finish? You wondered why sex with a vampire was such a big deal. I'm going to show you." He moved toward her, slowly, like a cat sneaking up on a bird. "Stamina." He stepped closer. "Multiple orgasms." Closer, and her mouth went dry. "Flexibility." Closer. Her skin flushed hot. "Strength." Closer. Her stomach did a flip-flop. "The ability to sense heat so we know what parts of the body are the most sensitive at the right time." Closer. A throbbing ache started low in her pelvis. "The ability to hear the slightest change in the tempo of your pulse so we know exactly how every stroke, kiss, and lick affects you." Oh. Dear. Lord. — Larissa Ione

A centipede the size of a Pontiac had once lived in the bottom-right corner of the trunk but had long since moved on once he realized that no one was ever going to bother him, so he could stand up on his hind hundred feet, hiss like a pissed cat, and deliver a deadly bite to a naked foot. — Christopher Moore

Since the time I had ridden Vodalus's charger out of Saltus, I had supposed in my innocence that all mounts might be divided into two sorts: the highbred and swift, and the cold-blooded and slow. The better, I thought, ran with the graceful ease, almost, of a coursing cat; the worse moved so tardily that it hardly mattered how they did it. It used to be a maxim of one of Thecla's tutors that all two-valued systems are false, and I discovered on that ride a new respect for him. My benefactor's mount belonged to that third class (which I have since discovered is fairly extensive) comprising those animals that outrace the birds but seem to run with legs of iron upon a road of stone. Men have numberless advantages over women and for that — Gene Wolfe

He kissed her forehead and pushed away. She moved so he could reach the doorknob and open the door. Standing in the opening, he glanced back at her. She waited for him to say something ... Goodbye, Thanks for the blowjob, something, anything. Instead, he tipped his head in a small nod, stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him. That was it, then. In less than an hour, this man had captured her heart, loved her and then left her. It had to be the quickest beginning ,middle and ending of a romance in the history of the world. — Cat Johnson

When I was seven years old, my family moved to North Carolina. When he was seven years old, Hugh's family moved to the Congo. We had a collie and a house cat. They had a monkey and two horses named Charlie Brown and Satan. I threw stones at stop signs. Hugh threw stones at crocodiles. The verbs are the same, but he definitely wins the prize when it comes to nouns and objects. — David Sedaris

So ... " He picked a yellow cat skull out of an alcove, turned it toward me, and moved the jaws up and down as he asked, "What do we do now? — Julie Kagawa

Excerpted From Chapter One
I decided staying put in the alley was preferable to keeping the dead guy company, so I went outside and lit a Lucky Strike. The night air had gotten damper and chillier during the short time I was in the warehouse, or maybe it was just me.
Wisps of lacy fog were now sinking into the alley, and a skulking cat in search of dinner moved slowly along the opposite wall until he noticed me. He scurried off in a furry blur, eager to be far away from the evil invading his domain. The cat had better sense than me and I wished I could follow his example. — H.P. Oliver

Its Scaled hide was dull brown That fitted in well with our surrounding, and its eyes a disturbing crimson. The low slung body featured powerful legs ending in scythelike claws anda long, flexible tail that moved hypnotically back and forth, like a cat's. Just behind its shoulders a pair of vestigial wings shifted and settled. — Marie Brennan

Green-eyed monsters," said Magnus, and grinned. He deposited Chairman Meow on the ground, and the cat moved over to Alec, and rubbed against his leg. "The Chairman likes you."
"Is that good?"
"I never date anyone my cat doesn't like," Magnus said easily, and stood up. "So let's say Friday night?"
A great wave of relief came over Alec. "Really? You want to go out with me?"
Magnus shook his head. "You have to stop playing hard to get, Alexander. It makes things difficult." He grinned. — Cassandra Clare

September Day sloshed another half cup of coffee into the giant #1-Bitch mug, and glared out the frosty breakfast nook windows. North Texas didn't get snow. That's why she'd moved back home - well, one of several reasons. She shivered, relishing the warmth of the beverage, and toasted the storm with a curse. "Damn false advertising." Her cat Macy meowed agreement. The blizzard drove icy wind through cracks in the antique windows and made the just-in-case candles on the dark countertop sputter. She pulled the fuzzy bathrobe closer around her neck. Normally the kitchen's stained glass spilled peacock-bright color into the kitchen. — Amy Shojai

Then his eyes moved to me and about a nanosecond later he moved to me, all masculine grace, a big cat on the prowl, fascinating. — Kristen Ashley