I can't go to Hindu countries where they respect rats and mice, and I can't go camping. I don't like to go into subways, because I always see them. Rats are like my naguales [kindred animal spirits]. They follow me.
A baroque art-rock bubblegum broadcast on a frequency understood only by female teenagers and bred field mice.
Of course, I had a crush on Princess Leia. I really wanted to ask her out, back to my place, or something. But at the time, I was living in a squat on Fitzroy Road in Primrose Hill. It was pretty derelict. So what was I going do? Ask her to come back with me and watch me catch mice?
I am not a keyboard person. The mouse is better.
When I was on the 'Mickey Mouse Club,' there was Britney Spears, Justin Timberlake and Ryan Gosling and Christine Aguilera. But they were 12 and I was 17, so there was a bit of an age difference.
I really had a great time working with Modest Mouse, just because of the people. I loved writing songs with Isaac Brock, and Jeremiah Green is probably my favorite musician that I've worked with.
Joining Modest Mouse was just consistent with what I used to do as a teenager: I followed where I thought I would make some interesting music.
I'm often accused of 'going too far,' but I recognize that behind my desire to shock is an even stronger desire to evade the 'feminine' stereotype: 'You say women are afraid of mice? I'll show you! I'll eat the mouse!
Popcorn-can cover / screwed to the wall / over a hole / so the cold / can't mouse in.
There's this bubblegum pop thing which is prevalent now that we haven't had before. People's ears are slightly de-tuned; they've been exposed to this weird synthetic, implausibly upbeat, Mickey Mouse stuff which I think is just weird; it's not really a human sound.
Is the destiny of the human species to sit back and play with our mouse and computer and imagine, fantasize?
A virtuous girl never chases after boys; who ever saw a mousetrap chasing mice?
In America we've spent over a billion dollars on autism research. What have we got for that? We've not seen anything that's appreciably impacted the quality of life of autistic people, regardless of their place on the spectrum. Quite frankly, we've spent $1bn figuring out how to make mice autistic and we'll spend another $1bn figuring out how to make them not autistic. And that's not what the average person wakes up in the morning aspiring to. They think: am I going to be able to find a job, to communicate, to live independently, either on my own or with support? Those are the real priorities.
I gave the mouse a hole, and she is become my heire. [I gave the mouse a hole, and she is become my heir.]
It's a bold mouse that nestles in the catts eare.
The Catt sees not the mouse ever.
To a mouse, cheese is cheese. That is why mouse traps are effective.
"You know, Mouse," Tabby said, "a brilliant cat like me should have smart friends; people who can count to more than four." "I can count to more than four," answered Mouse, very offended. "And I can do hard sums, and I know geography and history, and I can knit and ..."
I've always kind of pushed the envelope in terms of trying to get away with things no one else was going near. I always thought of myself like a mouse trying to get cheese that no one else could get without getting their tail snipped off.
While the cat's away, the mice will play.
Unity in a Movement situation can be overrated. If you were the Establishment, which would you rather see coming in the door: one lion or five hundred mice?
I think unity is a mistake.... If I were the Establishment and had the big loaded guns of the various oppressive institutions....I would much prefer to see one lion come through the door than 500 mice.
People who hate cats, will come back as mice in their next life.
I mean you know at midnight everything is going to turn to pumpkins and mice; right? But if the evening goes along, I mean, you know, the guys look better all the time, the music sounds better, it's more and more fun, you think why the hell should I leave at quarter of 12. I'll leave at two minutes to 12. But the trouble is, there are no clocks on the wall. And everybody thinks they're going to leave at two minutes to 12.
Every individual taste, every natural appetite, was bridled by caution. The people asleep in those houses, I thought, tried to live like the mice in their own kitchens; to make no noise, to leave no trace, to slip over the surface of things in the dark.
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