Warmest climes but nurse the cruellest fangs: the tiger of Bengal crouches in spiced groves of ceaseless verdure.Herman Melville: Moby Dick, Chapter 119.
The artistic individual is nonetheless permitted to pace up and down, like a tiger, in his cave of artistic creation, mad with desire and worry over achieving some output of beauty. As no one sees this, there is no one to hold it against him.Robert Walser, Berlin Stories. Translated by Susan Bernofsky (found here).
Rousseau tiger print found here.
Related: 'Exit, Pursued by a Tiger'