I've always believed that we could reach past genre -- we didn't ride the grunge coat-tails; we've always been on our terms.
A poem doesn’t come out and tell you what it has to say. It circles back on itself, eating its own tail and making you guess what it means.
The humour of Dostoievsky is the humour of a barloafer who ties a kettle to a dog's tail.
"All right", said the Cat; and this time it vanished quite slowly, beginning with the end of the tail, and ending with the grin, which remained some time after the rest of it had gone.
When time marches on, it steps on your nose and tail, and leaves boot prints down your back.
It is the goodly outside that sin puts on which tempteth to destruction. It has been said that sin is like the bee, with honey in its mouth, but a sting in its tail.
The story [Henny-Penny] has the best opening in all literature-"The sky is falling," cried Henny-Penny, "and a piece of it fell on my tail.
The only man who really needs a tail coat is a man with a hole in his trousers.
That a mouse of scandal whisks its foolish tail across the church's floor is not sufficient cause for clamorous leaping out of its windows.
Ronnie Spector's hair was taller and meaner and scarier than all four Shangri-La's combined, plus the drummer from the Honeycombs. You just know her rat-tail comb was a switchblade.
This whole force is utterly demoralized by victory. There seems to be neither head nor tail.
A person that started in to carry a cat home by the tail was gitting knowledge that was always going to be useful to him, and warn't ever going to grow dim or doubtful.
A sentence starts out like a lone traveler heading into a blizzard at midnight, tilting into the wind, one arm shielding his face, the tails of his thin coat flapping behind him.
By viewing nature, nature's handmaid art, Makes mighty things from small beginnings grow: Thus fishes first to shipping did impart, Their tail the rudder, and their head the prow.
I've never worked with a tail, that I can remember. But there's so much I can't remember.
Your fingernails are a joke, you've got no fangs, you can't see at night, your pink hides are ridiculous, your reflexes are nil, and you don't even have tails! Of course people aren't content!. . . Now if tigers weren't content, that would be something to wonder about.
This is a fierce bad rabbit; look at his savage whiskers, and his claws and his turned-up tail.
Now it's our turn to kick some tail!
I get Head and Tail like a quarter. . . in that order.
With little wit and ease to suit them, They whirl in narrow circling trails, Like kittens playing with their tails.