The Guest Cat

Looking back on it now, I’d say one’s thirties are a cruel age. At this point, I think of them as a time I whiled away unaware of the tide that can suddenly pull you out, beyond the shallows, into the sea of hardship, and even death.

In his discussion of fate, it seems Machiavelli thought that Fortuna dominates at least half our lives, while in the remaining half or a little less, human strength and competence (virtù) attempts to counteract it.

There are a few cat lovers among my close friends, and I have to admit that there have been moments when that look of excessive sweet affection oozing from around their eyes has left me feeling absolutely disgusted. Having devoted themselves to cats body and soul, they seemed at times utterly indifferent to shame.

There’s a photographer who says cat lovers always believe their own cat is better looking than anyone else’s.

When she began to sleep on the sofa — like a talisman curled gently in the shape of a comma and dug up from a prehistoric archaeological site — a deep sense of happiness arrived, as if the house itself had dreamed this scene.

Virtù di necessita — in other words, Machiavelli suggests that only the “skill displayed in times of emergency” can successfully compete with fate.