Stray Quotes

“It is still cheating, even if nobody comes.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Ask for the impossible, then settle instead for what you really wanted in the first place.”
― Rachel Vincent, Stray

“Some women would not cheat, and some would not have cheated, had they each married a man whom they love … or at least like.”
― Mokokoma Mokhonoana

“Shame on the misguided, the blinded, the distracted and the divided. Shame. You have allowed deceptive men to corrupt and desensitize your hearts and minds to unethically fuel their greed.”
― Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“Shoving aside fear and self-doubt, I met his eyes, aiming for absolute confidence in both my stance and my voice. “My father taught me to disarm my opponent at all costs—regardless of his choice of weapon,” I said, glancing pointedly at his groin.
“Are you threatening me?”
“Damn right. Lay one hand on me and you’ll never stand to pee again.”
His eyes darkened, and his laugh sounded forced. “You’re very funny, gatita.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’ve always considered my sense of humor to be largely under-appreciated, so it’s nice to finally meet a fan.”
― Rachel Vincent, Stray

“Okay, time to get serious. I let my smile fade slowly and lowered my pitch, as no human woman could have. “I’m not joking this time. If I see it, it’s mine, and you won’t get it back at the end of the school year.” I growled, deep and long, savoring the feel of the vibrations in my throat, as if the sound alone could save me. It wasn’t quite a cat’s growl but it was damn close. And it was his last warning.

Miguel dismissed my threat with an easy smile, and my stomach clenched. Oh, yeah, Faythe. You have Puss shaking in his boots, all right.”
― Rachel Vincent, Stray

“Always remember, my little angel of mercy, it's the strays that are feral....”
― Suzanne Steele, Stray

“In the road of right and wrong, trust me and hold my hand. Let's walk into the cave none has ever strayed into, where nothing matters except us. With the light, you hold in your eyes, let me destroy all the darkness in there.”
― Akshay Vasu

“She was a stray after all. A stray not only in its plantation meaning-orphaned, with no one to look after her-but in every other sphere as well. Somewhere, years ago, she had stepped off the path of life and could no longer find her way back to the family of people.”
― Colson Whitehead, The Underground Railroad

“I'm like a stray cat. If you feed me, I don't leave.”
― Michelle M. Pillow

“Stray voltage/current/frequency is the most serious form of exposure. Electrocution kills very few people per year. Stray voltage/current/frequency exposure is suspected to be making people sick in the millions!”
― Steven Magee, Electrical Forensics

“The only time a woman should be referred to as a slut is never, unless it's her kink.”
― Suzanne Steele, Stray

“Remember, your wishes are on the ways God created. If you miss the way, you are automatically missing that great treasure! Be on the way of the Lord and your wishes will meet you at a chosen junction!”
― Israelmore Ayivor, The Great Hand Book of Quotes

“We live in a society where interacting with government agents is a
potentially hazardous activity”
― Steven Magee

“Now that I am past picking the knife to stab one, the reward of stabbing a few more comes at an unfairly lower risk!”
― Pawan Mishra, Coinman: An Untold Conspiracy

“Plants can be affected by stray voltage and they may show stunted growth, deformed growth, or go dormant. In extreme cases they may die.”
― Steven Magee, Electrical Forensics

“لقد كنت الناجي الوحيد من شعب منقرض وهو يطأ أرضاً جديدة، كنت كقادم من زمن آخر، مسافر كوني، أو حتى كائن من كوكب آخر هبط على الأرض، وفضلاً عن ذلك كنت مجرداً من كلّ القوى. شعرتُ بالتيه لكأنّي أحد الإسرائيليين في سيناء، ولكنها كانت غابة خضراء هذه المرة.”
― جلجامش نبيل, Gilgamesh Nabeel, صراع الأقنعة

“Electrical grounding systems are a known human health hazard.”
― Steven Magee

“She lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. She had liked him from the moment she had met him Monday at school. No wonder he thought she had been acting weird on Wednesday when she couldn't even remember his name.
But other memories came to her now. Ones that filled her with sadness. She saw her mother, father, and sister. Tears burned into her eyes. Having her memories suddenly restored made it feel as if they had died all over again.
"You're crying." Derek pressed her against him and rubbed her back soothingly.
She remembered the way she had struggled through the woodlot that first night and finally found shelter in the trashed boxes behind a liquor store. She had fallen into a deep sleep and was awakened the next morning by the woman who owned the store.
That began her first foster placement. More than anything she had wanted a home. She had lived in so many different houses and towns. West Covina. Ontario. Long Beach. Wilmington. She had kept a key from each one. That's why there were so many on her key chain. She felt suddenly sorry for herself, sorry that she had lived like a stray.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Lost One

“There is something in the ground awaiting discovery.”
― Steven Magee

“Get lost in the right direction”
― Tamerlan Kuzgov

“Stray pets were a problem after hurricane Ian.”
― Steven Magee

“As she writes, she feels a warm assurance; she likes her phrasing, and her conclusions, which are not absolute. On the contrary, they retain an ambiguous hesitant air, a little like done thinking out loud. She rereads her first notes and at times disagrees with herself, and she loves that, she has always liked changing her mind. She thinks about Chaura Paillacar struggling with headaches and about the unnamed poet's jumpy eyes, and Aurelia Bala writing with both hands and Floridor Pérez with his son Chile, whom she imagines as a teenager every bit as skinny and gangly as the country that gave him the name he wanted to change at any cost. She thinks about Hernaldo Bravo just after he was hit by a car, in a hospital, writing poems out of pure boredom, and about the twins scribbling incessantly on the walls of Bernadita Socorro's small, light-filled apartment... that the world of Chilean poets is a little stupid but it is more genuine, less false than the ordinary lives of people who follow the rules and keep their heads down. Of course there is opportunism and cruelty, but also real passion and heroism and allegiance to dreams. She thinks that Chilean poets are stray dogs and stray dogs are Chilean poets and that she herself is a Chilean poet, poking her snout into the trash cans of an unknown city...”
― Alejandro Zambra, Chilean Poet

“As she writes, she feels a warm assurance; she likes her phrasing, and her conclusions, which are not absolute. On the contrary, they retain an ambiguous, hesitant air, a little like someone thinking out loud. She rereads her first notes and at times disagrees with herself, and she loves that, she has always liked changing her mind. She thinks about Chaura Paillacar struggling with headaches and about the unnamed poet's jumpy eyes, and Aurelia Bala writing with both hands and Floridor Pérez with his son Chile, whom she imagines as a teenager every bit as skinny and gangly as the country that gave him the name he wanted to change at any cost. She thinks about Hernaldo Bravo just after he was hit by a car, in a hospital, writing poems out of pure boredom, and about the twins scribbling incessantly on the walls of Bernadita Socorro's small, light-filled apartment... that the world of Chilean poets is a little stupid but it is more genuine, less false than the ordinary lives of people who follow the rules and keep their heads down. Of course there is opportunism and cruelty, but also real passion and heroism and allegiance to dreams. She thinks that Chilean poets are stray dogs and stray dogs are Chilean poets and that she herself is a Chilean poet, poking her snout into the trash cans of an unknown city...”
― Alejandro Zambra, Chilean Poet

“An orange cat scurried out from under the bed and proceeded to snake around my ankles, purring loudly. One eye rested shut, as if it were krazy-glued to a close, and her fur was mottled. Marianne scooped her up. "Sac à puces," (Fleabag), she said. "This stray is a devious one, always sneaking into the apartments. I don't know how she gets in. I'll have to warn Claude to stop feeding her tuna."
I scratched under the cat's chin, staring into her good eye---a kaleidoscope of greens and yellows. "She's sweet," I said.
"She's filthy," said Marianne, tucking the cat under her arm.”
― Samantha Verant, Sophie Valroux's Paris Stars

“A loud mew distracted my ocular reconnaissance, and the cat rubbed her little head on my ankles. Marianne had been right; this cat had ninja stealth qualities. I hadn't seen her follow me into the apartment.
"Did my grand-mère send you here?" I asked. The cat purred so loud my heart almost burst. It was as if she understood my life, me, and what I was about to do. She may have been damaged, but weren't we all? Didn't every creature large or small need a second chance at life and at love? I sat down on the sisal-covered flooring to pet her.
"I want to keep you. What do you think of that? Of course, I'll ask Marianne if Claude will be okay with that. But I think we have a bond. I'm kind of a stray too."
Her paw gripped my finger. She'd claimed me, and I realized it wasn't the other way around.
"I'm going to name you Étoile. It means 'star' in French," I said, stroking her fuzzy head. "You're moving to the countryside. What do you think of that?"
Yes, I was talking to a cat, and she seemed to be listening. Her one good eye closed in a slow blink. I think she was giving me the go-ahead to catnap her.”
― Samantha Verant, Sophie Valroux's Paris Stars

“There is an actual risk of dying in a duel. You can always be hit by a stray bullet.”
― Ljupka Cvetanova, Yet Another New Land