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— T. S. Eliot"To country people Cows are mild, And flee from any stick they throw; But I’m a timid town bred child, And all the cattle seem to know."
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Cecil flashed a grin. "Quite. Plus your rather irritating habit of treating your superior officers as your, ah..." Cecil paused, apparently groping again for just the right word. "Equals?" Miles hazarded. "Cattle," Cecil corrected judiciously.
— Lois McMaster Bujold
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Wiggles hissed as I crossed the floor toward the throne. She fixed me with her empty hateful eyes and smelled the air, her long tongue shivering through the slit of the lipless mouth. Nice to see you too, sweetheart. Remember my cattle prod?
— Ilona Andrews
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