Stupid, Stupid Rat Creatures!
I believe the projects were a social experiment; we were laboratory rats stacked on top of each other, and people just knew, inherently, that there was something wrong. There's not a lot of regard for the property by the residents.
The rats are underneath the piles The Jew is underneath the lot.
As an experimental psychologist, I have been trained not to believe anything unless it can be demonstrated in the laboratory on rats or sophomores.
A rat race is for rats. We're not rats. We're human beings. Reject the insidious pressures in society that would blunt your critical faculties to all that is happening around you, that would caution silence in the face of injustice lest you jeopardise your chances of promotion and self-advancement.
I was a gym rat and I always thought that was a part of my success.
Just because it's a rat race doesn't mean it's okay to be a rat.
Our environments shape the way we see ourselves. If you have been condemned to live in an area that is pretty evidently a rat-run, then sooner or later you're gonna come to the conclusion that you're a rat.
You're this rat in the American maze, working your way towards the cheese, which is a job.
The aristocrats and bureaucrats are dirty rats.
Every time you go to a party and take a picture and post that picture to Facebook, you're being a rat. You're being a narc.
Bathsheba! to whom none ever said scat- No worthier cat Ever sat on a mat, Or caught a rat. Requiescat!
If we are to be the last of the White men who conquered the world; if we are finally to be overwhelmed by a pack of rats, let us at least face the death of our race as our ancestors faced their death---like MEN. Let us not crawl down amongst the rats begging for mercy or trying to out-sneak them and pretend to be rats ourselves!
Beware of driving men to desperation. Even a cornered rat is dangerous.
The oldest, wisest politician grows not more human so, but is merely a gray wharf rat at last.
He'd always thought Roag was one rat short of a plague.
Was it love of people?' I asked her. 'Of course no,' she snapped sharply. 'How can you love ignorant, brutish people whom you don't even know? Can anyone love filth and squalor? Or lice and rats? Who can love aching weariness, and carry on working, in spite of it? One cannot love these things. One can only love God, and through His grace come to love His people.
Back in the Rat Pack days, we'd take Frank's plane and sit dead center, because of Nancy. We'd watch the Rat Pack in the center ring and you couldn't ask for a better thing.
That's not a rat, that's my ferret.
I hate rats. I had a pet rat to try and overcome it. I even gave him mouth-to mouth resuscitation when he had a heart attack. But I couldn't conquer it.