"Welcome to our camp!" Blackstar called, beckoning them with his tail. "Rest here and take your pick of the fresh-kill pile." "Who are you and what have you done with Blackstar?" Lionblaze muttered.

Well, I'm more lopsided than a one-legged badger.

Silverstream: You idiot!!! What are you doing in my territory??? Graystripe:...Drowning? Silverstream: Can't you do that in your own territory? Graystripe: Ah, but who would rescue me there?

We all have our flaws. But we overcome them. And sometimes, it's our flaws that make us who we are.

Think you have nine lives, do you? I saved you once.... don't make me save you again.

It's coming, a battle between Starclan and The Dark Forest and every warrior will be called upon to fight.

Keep your eyes open, Fireheart. Keep your ears pricked. Keep looking behind you. Because one day I'll find you, and then you'll be crowfood.

You're a medicine cat. I understand what that means now. StarClan go with you, Leafpool. I'll never forget you.

He was desperate to tell his news to some other cat; he almost felt that if a mouse crossed his path he would stop to inform it that it was about to be eaten by a ThunderClan deputy.

You're going to find Tigerstar. Against that fiend, every cat is helpless.

Graystripe pushed past Tigerheart and Whitestorm and crouched beside his old friend. "I would have taken your place if you had let me". His voice was hoarse with grief.

Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time.

The first kiss can be as terrifying as the last.

I’ve made it my mission to discover that which is off the beaten track. Somewhere in the undergrowth of the impossible.

But I wasn't the girl I'd been when I left, and I knew it.

I am a shining star, and I surround myself with people who encourage my brightness.

It's not a problem. In four or five days I will be beautiful once again.

To live long, live slowly.

Nothing in the whole world is so athirst for beauty as the soul, nor is there anything to which beauty clings so readily.

Fellow citizens, why do you burn and scrape every stone to gather wealth and take so little care of your children to whom you must one day relinquish all?

Realism is condemned by those artists whose poverty of technique does not permit them to express it.