I like the Wu Tang Clan a lot.
Stormfur. . . You'll have to go on without me, brother. Save the Clan.
I'll protect my Clan, whatever it takes.
Have courage. We still have our clan. There is always hope.
Dovewing felt bone-weary from her ears to the tip of her tail. Just because she had better hearing, sharper senses than any cat didn't seem to give her more strength. She needed to rest, eat, talk with Jayfeather and Lionblaze about the challenge that sol had left them with, of hostile Clans that would be crushed by the dark forest if they tried to fight alone. Starclan, light my path, please. "Come on," she meowed to Hollyleaf. "It's time we went home. Our Clnmates are waitning for us P. 315
It was his cunning, this confidence and farsightedness in dealing with his own Clan, that made Crookedstar one of the strongest leaders the Clans have ever seen.
You're never been wrong before, Spottedleaf. If StarClan has spoken, then it must be so. Fire will save our Clan. -Bluestar, Into the Wild
I have no clan, nor any rank. I am unique.
Unfortunately, now in boxing people are only allowed to punch. In Judo, people are only allowed to throw. I do not despise these kinds of martial arts. What I mean is, we now find rigid forms which create differences among clans, and the world of martial art is shattered as a result.
Leopardstar says that they're staying with us so the Clans can exchange training methods and fighting techniques, but I don't see much sign of it. All they do is watch. . . . It's like they're learning all about us, all our secrets and weaknesses. That's why I came over here, to get away from them for a bit.
I've voted Libertarian as long as I can remember, but I don't really remember much before the Clintons and the Bushes. Those clans made a lot of us bugnutty.
I have to stay here and bury her," he whispered. "Here, between RiverClan and ThunderClan. After this, not even her own Clan will want to mourn her.
You see, Firestar? I am even more powerful than Starclan, for I have changed the clans in the forest from four to two. . . "-The Darkest Hour, Page 227
My mom was the Diana Ross of our clan. She was always up-to-date, and always knew what to do and what not to do in a fashion sense.
There was a time when the young of many clans joined together to make new clans.
Thanksgiving. It proved you had survived another year with its wars, inflation, unemployment, smog, presidents. It was a grand neurotic gathering of clans: loud drunks, grandmothers, sisters, aunts, screaming children, would-be suicides. And don't forget indigestion. I wasn't different from anyone else: There sat the 18-pound bird on my sink, dead, plucked, totally disemboweled. Iris would roast it for me.
If I ever form a clan, we'll be the anti-cheerleaders and walk under the bleacher forming mild acts of mayhem.
She padded toward Han, barefoot, like a faerie startled out of a forest bower, bewitching mix of clan and flatland beauty.
Fire will save the Clan
