Life is no way to treat an animal.

The fox knows lots of tricks, the hedgehog only one—but it’s a winner.

Man, when perfected, is the best of animals, but when separated from law and justice, he is the worst of all. 

Animals, in their generation, are wiser than the sons of men, but their wisdom is confined to a few particulars, and lies in a very narrow compass.

I hate the sight of monkeys; they remind me so of poor relations.

Alas! We are ridiculous animals.

Every ass thinks himself worthy to stand with the king’s horses.

Men, my dear, are very queer animals—a mixture of horse nervousness, ass stubbornness, and camel malice.

There are some who, if a cat accidentally comes into the room, though they neither see it nor are told of it, will presently be in a sweat and ready to die away.

What delight can there be, and not rather displeasure, in hearing the barking and howling of dogs? Or what greater pleasure is there to be felt when a dog followeth a hare than when a dog followeth a dog?

Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It’s what separates us from the animals—except the weasel.

When the eagles are silent, the parrots begin to jabber.

Cows are among the gentlest of breathing creatures; none show more passionate tenderness to their young when deprived of them—and, in short, I am not ashamed to profess a deep love for these quiet creatures.