Endurance, after all, is the only reason we even exist. We think of ourselves as nature's deadliest animals, but the truth is, a naked human is the biggest wimp in the wild. We have no fangs, no claws, no strength, and no speed.

I used to have a pet crawfish, so my friend made a mold of its claws and bronzed a key chain for me out of it.

I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things, to me, are expressions of love.

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.

In men's sports, people criticize coaches and managers all the time, call out teammates, too, and it's not that huge of a deal. Often, the guy speaking out is even lauded for having the courage to tell the truth. When it happens in women's sports, though, it always seems to be viewed as a nasty, claws-out cat fight.

This is why they started us here so young: to give ourselves away before the age when the questions 'why' and 'to what' grow real beaks and claws.

How does fear become so powerful? We can't see it. We can't touch it, yet it gets its claws in us and begins to control us. Sigh. I hate feeling afraid, and I hate, hate, HATE feeling out of control.

Caring was a thing with claws. It sank them in, and didn't let go. Caring hurt more than a knife to the leg, more than a few broken ribs, more than anything that bled or broke and healed again. Caring didn't break you clean. It was a bone that didn't set, a cut that wouldn't close.

"Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don't guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it's total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It's feral.

I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things to me are expressions of love.

I love Wagner but the music I prefer is that of a cat hung up by its tail outside a window and trying to stick to the panes of glass with its claws.

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.