On Cats Quotes

“The kitten was six weeks old. It was enchanting, a delicate fairy-tale cat, whose Siamese genes showed in the shape of the face, ears, tail, and the subtle lines of its body. [...] She sat, a tiny thing, in the middle of a yellow carpet, surrounded by five worshipppers, not at all afraid of us. Then she stalked around that floor of the house, inspecting every inch of it, climbed up on to my bed, crept under the fold of a sheet, and was at home.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“If a fish is the movement of water embodied, given shape, then cat is a diagram and pattern of suble air.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“In the morning, when she wishes me to wake, she crouches on my chest, and pats my face with her paw. Or, if I am on my side, she crouches looking into my face. Soft, soft touches of her paw. I open my eyes, say I don't want to wake. I close my eyes. Cat gently pats my eyelids. Cat licks my nose. Cat starts purring, two inches from my face. Cat, then, as I lie pretending to be asleep, delicately bites my nose. I laugh and sit up. At which she bounds off my bed and streaks downstairs -- to have the back door opened if it is winter, to be fed, if it is summer.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“Her ears, lightly fringed with white that looked silver, lifted and moved, back, forward, listening and sensing. Her face turned, slightly, after each new sensation, alert. Her tail moved, in another dimension, as if its tip was catching messages her other organs could not. She sat poised, air-light, looking, hearing, feeling, smelling, breathing, with all of her, fur, whiskers, ears -- everything, in delicate vibration.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“Kittens, kittens, showers of kittens, visitations of kittens. So many, you see them as Kitten, like leaves growing on a bare branch, staying heavy and green, then falling, exactly the same every year. People coming to visit say: What happened to that lovely kitten? What lovely kitten? They are all lovely kittens.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“What a luxury a cat is, the moments of shocking
and startling pleasure in a day, the feel of the beast,
the soft sleekness under your palm, the warmth
when you wake on a cold night, the grace and charm
even in a quite ordinary workaday puss.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“Here tail moved, in another dimension, as if its tip was catching messages her other organs could not. She sat poised, air-light, looking, hearing, feeling, smelling, breathing, with all of her, fur, whiskers, ears---everything, in delicate vibration.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“A cat needs a place as much as it needs a person to make its own.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“In the end, the cats were rounded up and put into a room. My father went into the room with his First World War revolver, more reliable, he said, than a shotgun. The gun sounded again, again, again, again. The cats that were still uncaught had sensed their fate and were raging and screaming all over the bush, with people after them. My father came out of the room at one point, very white, with tight angry lips and wet eyes. He was sick.
Then he swore a good deal, then he went back into the room and the shooting continued. At last he came out. The servants went in and carried off the corpses to the disused well. Some of the cats had escaped – three never came back at all to the murderous household, so they must have gone wild and taken their chances.
When my mother returned from her trip, and the neighbour who had brought her had gone, she walked quiet and uncommenting through the house where there was now one cat, her old favourite, asleep on her bed. My mother had not asked for this cat to be spared, because it was old, and not very well. But she was looking for it; and she sat a long time stroking and talking to it. Then she came out to the verandah.
There sat my father and there I sat, murderers, and feeling it. She sat down. He was rolling a cigarette. His hands were still shaking. He looked up at her and said: ‘That must never happen again.’ And I suppose it never did.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“Tietyn iän jälkeen – joillekin meistä se saattaa sattua hyvinkin nuorella iällä – ei tule enää uusia ihmisiä, eläimiä, unia, kasvoja, tapahtumia: kaikki on tapahtunut ennenkin, kaikki on nähty ennenkin, erilailla ehostettuina, erilaisissa vaatteissa, erimaalaisina, erivärisinä ja silti samoina, samoina, ja kaikki on vain kaikua ja vanhan toistoa; edes suru ei ole ainutkertaista vaan jonkin kauan sitten unohtuneen toistoa, joka ilmenee uskomattomana hätänä, päiväkausien kyynelöintinä, yksinäisyytenä, petoksen tunteena ja kaikki vain yhden, pienen, laihan, kuolevan kissan takia.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“She was human, sensible, shrewd. She was above all, and in every detail, practical. But more than that: she was one of that part of humankind which understands how things work; and works with them. A grim enough role.”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats

“Nakon nekog uzrasta - a za neke od nas to može biti i veoma rano - nema novih ljudi, životinja, snova lica, događaja. Sve se dogodilo pre. Svi su se već pojavili ranije, drugačije maskirani, u nekoj drugoj odeći, druge nacinalnosti, boje, ali isti, isti, sve je eho i ponavljanje. I nema bola koji nije povratak iz sećanja nekog drugog bola. Nepojmnog očaja, dana u suzama, samoće, osećanja izneverenosti...”
― Doris Lessing, On Cats