I think mice Are rather nice. Their tails are long, Their faces small, They haven't any Chins at all.
A mouse relies not solely on one hole.
I would like to metamorphose into a mouse-mountain.
The dog wags its tail only at living things. A tail wag, the equivalent of a human smile, is bestowed upon people, dogs , cats, squirrels, even mice and butterflies. - but no lifeless things. A dog won't wag its tail to its dinner or to a bed, card, stick, or even a bone.
Of all the words of mice and men, the saddest are, "It might have been.
I have a very bad relationship with mice.
It's a bold mouse that nestles in the catts eare.
The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.
When the cats away, the mice will play.
What birds were they? (. . . ) He listened to the cries: like the squeak of mice be- hind the wainscot : a shrill twofold note. But the notes were long and shrill and whirring, unlike the cry of vermin, falling a third or a fourth and trilled as the flying beaks clove the air. Their cry was shrill and clear and fine and falling like threads of silken light unwound from whirring spools.
A woman and a mouse, they carry a tale wherever they go.
Cats do not keep the mice away; it is my belief that they preserve them for the chase.
Is that all? The mountain in labor has brought forth a mouse.
If a farmer fills his barn with grain, he gets mice. If he leaves it empty, he gets actors.
Two little mice fell in a bucket of cream. The first mouse quickly gave up and drowned. The second mouse, wouldn't quit. He struggled so hard that eventually he churned that cream into butter and crawled out. Gentlemen, as of this moment, I am that second mouse.
Rats. Rats, mice, and rodents.
Just remember, it all started with a mouse.
If we refuse our homage to statues and frigid images, the very counterpart of their dead originals, with which hawks, and mice, and spiders are so well acquainted, does it not merit praise instead of penalty [Christians were punished for not worshiping Roman gods] that we have rejected what we have come to see is error? We cannot surely be made out to injure those whom we are certain are nonentities. What does not exist is in its nonexistence secure from suffering.
We get a lot of cheese, no mice with that.
Walk in this faithless grass with studious tread, Lest mice, weasels, germane beasts, too soon The tall hat and eyes, the fierce feet, for dead Descry, and fix you prone in their revelling moon.
