I don't know. I guess I'm tired of chasing city rats.

We've been sleeping on the . . . ground like rats. I say burn this whole . . . city down.

You want proof evolution is for real, don’t waste your time with fossils; just check out the New York City rat. They started out as immigrants, stowaways in some ship’s cargo hold. Only the survivors got to breed, and they’ve been improving with every new
litter. Smarter, faster, stronger. Getting ready to rule. Manhattan wouldn’t be the first island they took over.

They didn't have their sirens on or anything, but they were still chasing.

I guess it's better having him interested in gas engines rather than having him in the tavern or chasing these young girls.

I'm smiled out, talked out, quipped out, socialized so far from any being, I need the weight of mortal silences to get realized back into myself.