Wolf Quotes - Page 2

A faint smile that made every tiny hair on her body rise in quivering attention. "How fast can you run?" A wolf's question.

What is a saint supposed to do, if not convert wolves?

Favorite Quotations.I speak my mind because it hurts to bite my tongue.The worth of a book is measured by what you carry away from it. It's not over till it's over. Imagination is everything. All life is an experiment. What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls the butterfly.

If you teach a wolf how to hunt, it will reward you by devouring you.

Have you seen what wolves do to their prey? But they do mate for life.

While one may lose much because of avarice, nothing was ever accomplished by abstinence.

I sheep's idea of bravery : To become a wolf's pet.

Crazy is such a misunderstood term. I like to think that I march to the beat of my own drummer.

Winter’s head snapped around, away from Scarlet. Scarlet’s pace slowed, dread pulsing through her as she, too, heard the footsteps. Pounding footsteps, like someone was running at full speed toward them. She reached for the knife Jacin had given her. A man barrelled around the corner, heading straight for the princess. Winter tensed half a second before he reached her. Grabbing Winter’s elbow, he yanked back the red hood. Scarlet gasped. Her knees weakened. The man stared at Winter with a mixture of confusion and disappointment and maybe even anger, all locked up in eyes so vividly green that Scarlet could see them glowing from here. She was the one hallucinating now. She took a stumbling, uncertain step forward. Wanting to run toward him, but terrified it was a trick. Her hand tightened around the knife handle as Wolf, ignoring how Winter was trying to pull away, grabbed her arm and smelled the filthy red sleeve of Scarlet’s hoodie, streaked with dirt and blood. He growled, ready to tear the princess apart. “Where did you get this?” So desperate, so determined, so him. The knife slipped out of Scarlet’s hand. Wolf’s attention snapped to her. “Wolf?” she whispered. His eyes brightened, wild and hopeful. Releasing Winter, he strode forward. His tumultuous eyes scooped over her. Devoured her. When he was in arm’s reach, Scarlet almost collapsed into him, but at the last moment she had the presence of mind to step back. She planted a hand on his chest. Wolf froze, hurt flickering across his face. “I’m sorry,” said Scarlet, her voice teetering with exhaustion. “It’s just…I smell so awful, I can hardly stand to be around myself right now, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you with your sense of

I said uselessly, "Sam, don't go."Sam cupped my face in his hands and looked me in the eyes. His eyes were yellow, sad, wolf, mine. "These stay the same. Remember that when you look at me. Remember it's me. Please.

Do either of you even play baseball?

I never knew there were so many different ways to say good-bye

I have a bad habit of wolfing down things that catch my eye.

Oh. Sure. It makes perfect sense. Zane is a wolf because his father is an eagle.

What does this wildish intuition do for women? Like the wolf, intuition has claws that pry things open and pin things down, it has eyes that can through the shields of persona, it has ears that hear beyond the range of mundane human hearing. With these formidable psychic tools a woman takes on a shrewd and even precognitive animal consciousness, one that deepens her femininity and sharpens her ability to move confidently in the outer world.

I want to come all over you. I want to mark you as mine, so that every wolf in the pack knows who you belong to. ”- Wolf Shifter Ryker Black

I have always been a lone wolf and in the real sense of the word (people say it all the time but it's usually not true.) I feel like I watch people and I wonder why they do things. Especially when it comes to love and relationships: most of the time I am thinking "Why are they together when they are not meant to be together?" but then I realize that they don't know that they're not meant to be together; it's just me who knows things like that! And I don't see any importance in all the other reasons why people usually want to be together— because it looks good, because it's convenient, because it's a fun game to play... the only reason to be with someone is if you are meant for someone. You're a wolf and they're a wolf too and you look at each other and you say "You're my family, you're my home." Well, that's how I think.

And Esme remembered in a rush--the wolfsong, the haunting, lyrical spirals of it in the dawn quiet and the feeling of euphoria that had attended it. Even in recollection the howling uplifted her like the crescendo at the end of a symphony and made her heartbeat quicken.

He burst into the house and ate Grandma, an entirely valid course of action for a carnivore such as himself.

Don't ever accuse anyone of being full of pride, undignified and unprofessional when simply they are wise to move away from dishonest schemers.Dishonesty comprise too of layers of lies simply casted for impressive appearances. There are times too that corrupt hearts have their own confused, modified, self-affirming, pro-self interest business inclined definitions of "professionalism, integrity, dignity and pride.

Before long, the smokey spectre appeared, as I knew it would, the barest whisper of a shadow, inky and incandescent. It darted forwards, then back, closer, then ppfft, it was gone in an instant, only to return, darker and more substantial. As ever, it grew bolder, and bolder, until finally it dared to drift through the window and into my home.Every night I had lain here, the geist had come.

Being a lone wolf is sometimes better than being in a pack.

As he had kissed her neck, she could not repress the feeling she was a lamb making time with a wolf.

A wolf can only mock a lion thousands of miles away.

Good for Christmas-time is the ruddy colour of the cloak in which--the tree making a forest of itself for her to trip through, with her basket--Little Red Riding-Hood comes to me one Christmas Eve to give me information of the cruelty and treachery of that dissembling Wolf who ate her grandmother, without making any impression on his appetite, and then ate her, after making that ferocious joke about his teeth. She was my first love. I felt that if I could have married Little Red Riding-Hood, I should have known perfect bliss. But, it was not to be; and there was nothing for it but to look out the Wolf in the Noah's Ark there, and put him late in the procession on the table, as a monster who was to be degraded.

Cerise! Come and kiss me, you red haired harpy,” Izrayl bellowed. She smiled and moved to kiss his stubbly cheek. He held her tight and squeezed. “How goes it Old Dog,” Cerise said fondly to her temporary captor.“Still alive,” he grinned salaciously at her. “And still young enough to learn some new tricks if you are the one doing the teaching.”“Try it and I will neuter you,” Cerise threatened and tugged on his braid. “You dogs, all you think of is hunting, fighting and fucking.”“What else is there?” Izrayl growled in the back of his throat and raised an eyebrow at her suggestively.

IF I HAD a dime for every time I’ve heard “We’re all going to die” or “I’ll kill you,” I could afford a better apartment. You can only listen to so many threats of destruction, doom, or death before you start tuning them all out. So I followed the wolf out of the building, then went home.

There is an Iroquois myth that describes a choice the nation was once forced to make. The myth has various forms. This is the simplest version. A council of the tribes was called to decide where to move on for the next hunting season. What the council had not known, however, was that the place they eventually chose was a place inhabited by wolves. Accordingly, the Iroquois became subject to repeated attacks, during which the wolves gradually whittled down their numbers. They were faced with a choice: to move somewhere else or to kill the wolves. The latter option, they realized, would diminish them. It would make them the sort of people they did not want to be. And so they moved on. To avoid repetition of their earlier mistake, they decided that in all future council meetings someone should be appointed to represent the wolf. Their contribution would be invited with the question, ‘Who speaks for wolf?

His face was glistening with cold. He was beautiful, the snow in his eyelashes like diamonds, the cool pink of his cheeks, the wet red of his lips. He was staggering toward her."I have to leave you." His breath came in uneven bursts. "You won't be safe with me."Whatever he was, he could not be bad. An amazing and terrible thought entered Valerie's mind, clearing away all others."Peter..."She stepped toward him, arms out. They gave in to each other, finally, their bodies fitting together. Her fingers warmed his cheek, and his arms slipped underneath her crimson cloak as her long blond hair blew around them. Enveloped in a shelter of white, standing out in black and red, were just the two of them. Nothing else anywhere. Valerie knew that she could never be apart from him, that she was what he was and that she would be his always.She didn't care if he was the Wolf or not. And if he was a Wolf, then she would be one, too.She made he choice and brought her lips to his.

Allow yourself to see the good in people. Not every sinister face harbors a wicked heart.

Like a wolf, she lived by instinct.

The story had already taken on a legendary air from the waitstaff's telling of it. According to the cooks, the street fighter had broken a bottle over Roland's head, knocking him unconscious and crushing a chair in the process. He would have taken out Gilles too, if Emilie hadn't calmed him down with one of her pretty smiles.

Have you killed a man, drowned a crocodile, hunted a wolf, or raped an abuser? Stop pretending you love someone.

In the end, it is our defiance that redeems us. If wolves had a religion – if there was a religion of the wolf – that it is what it would tell us.

I remember sitting in this cabin in Alaska one evening reading over the notes of all these encounters, and recalling Joseph Campbell, who wrote in the conclusion to 'Primitive Mythology' that men do not discover their gods, they create them. So do they also, I thought, looking at the notes before me, create their animals.

A wolf searches the path for prey that has paused. Keep moving.

The hardest part about being back in the human world was relearning emotion. Everything a wolf does has a practical, simple reason. There is no cold shoulder, no saying one thing when you mean something else, no innuendo. Wolves fight for two reasons: family and territory. Humans are driven by ego; wolves have no room for it and will literally nip it out of you. For a wolf, the world is about understanding, knowledge, respect – attributes that many humans have cast off, along with an appreciation of the natural world.

I start to count. This is the important part. I have to count right. Not too fast, nor too slow. All the way to one hundred. It must be spoken aloud, without interruption. Whispering is acceptable; the count keeps my wolf to the Dark Wood. It keeps me on safety’s slender path.

Sometimes a woman has experienced too much life to have any blush left in her cheeks, but the man who puts it there is someone not easily forgotten.

Maybe Father Auguste is right," Henry started thoughtfully, rising from a bench. "Maybe we should wait."From the back of the tavern, Peter stifled a burst of laughter. Henry gripped the edge of the table.Adrian turned to Henry with a withering glare."Maybe, my son," Adrian said quietly, "you should find your courage."Henry took a labored breath."You want to hunt the Wolf?" He narrowed his eyes, spurned. "All right, then. Let's hunt it.

The birthing wolf,Her heart fed with tenderness,Gave forth from ripe brown nipples,Food to feed the universe.

Oh, but you must travel through those woods again and again... said a shadow at the window... and you must be lucky to avoid the wolf every time...But the wolf... the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once.

One day a wolf bit a man and the man caught it. Magic or science, it's all the same. The only thing magical about it is that we can't explain it." ~Sam

We met less than a week ago and in that time I've done nothing but lie and cheat and betray you. I know. But if you give me a chance...all I want is to protect you. To be near you. For as long as I'm able.

Long after the other voices had dropped away, Sam kept howling, very soft and slow.When he finally fell silent, the night felt dead. Sitting was intolerable. I stood up, paced, clenched and unclenched my hands into fists. Finally I took the guitar that Sam had played and I screamed and smashed it into pieces on Dad's desk.

My life was going exactly where I wanted it to until the Devil showed up.

His eyes are so beautiful and dark and they do look like that dog’s—I mean, that wolf’s. They are kind and strong and a little bit something else and I like them. I like them a lot. No, I like them way too much. Something inside me gets a little warmer, edges closer to him.The fire crackles and I jump again, jittery, nervous, but I don’t jump away from Nick. I jump toward him. Nick in the firelight with just a blanket on is a little hard to resist, no matter how crazy he might be. His skin, deep with heat, seems to glisten. His muscles are defined and good but not all steroid bulky. He is so perfect. And beautiful. In a boy way. Not a monster way. Not a wolf way.“Are you going to kiss me?” My words tremble into the air.He smiles but doesn’t answer.“I’ve never kissed a werewolf before. Are were kisses like pixie kisses? Do they do something to you? Is that why you never kissed anybody?”He gives a little smile. “No. It’s just I never kissed anyone because I never thought I could be honest about who I am, you know? And I didn’t want anyone to get attached to me because . . .”“Because you’re a werewolf.”“Because I’m a werewolf,” he repeats softly. Watching his lips move makes me shiver; not in a scared way, in more of an oh-he-is-too-beautiful way.I put my hand against his skin. It is warm. It’s always been warm. He smells so good, like woods and safety. I swallow my fear and move forward, and my lips meet his, angel-light, a tiny promise. His lips move beneath mine. His hands move to my shoulders and my mouth feels like it will burst with happiness. My whole body shakes with it.“Wow,” I say.“Yeah,” he says. “Wow.”Our mouths meet again. It’s like my lips belong there . . . right there. One tiny part of me has finally found a place to fit.

You can't expect a wolf to play with you and not eventually bite.

You really didn't appreciate how thick, how powerful water was until you had to fight it.

WEST SALEM ~ October 2011A sudden vision, fraught with malevolence and darkness, obscured her sight. The face of a menacing figure turned from the shadows of his grisly handiwork and stared at Sorcha.Her muscles tensed. By the Goddess, could he see her?Please! No!She wanted to scream, to run, but the vision ensnared her into the horrific moment like a fly in a spider's web.

A wolf is clever-clever-clever, and they are as faithful as a debt unpaid.

He gave each wolf its own name, and he told me that they were crossing the Moon River, a place that he said, “Is where all wolves go when they die.

No animal could change the character of the land as the presence of the wolf had that day.

Fairytales have rules. We may never understand them but they've been hammered into our heads since infancy. Eventually, even the rebels conform.

Some days I am more wolf than woman, and I am still learning how to stop apologizing for my wild.

Wolves and Doves mate for life. I hope in the next life I am one of the two.

Only a sense of lightness, giddy and dizzying, like flight—of a burden that didn't belong to me being lifted.Suddenly I knew the truth and the lights surrounding me exp

Cole,” I said, “do you think I’m lovable?”“As in ‘cuddly and’?”“As in ‘able to be loved,’” I said.Cole’s gaze was unwavering. Just for a moment, I had the strange idea that I could see exactly what he had looked like when he was younger, and exactly what he’d look like when he was older. It was piercing, a secret glimpse of his future. “Maybe,” he said. “But you won’t let anybody try.”I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I can’t tell the diference between not fighting,” I said,“and giving up.”Despite my eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear ran out of my left eye. I was so angry that it had escaped. I was so angry.Beneath me, the bed tipped as Cole edged closer. I felt him lean over me. His breath, warm and measured, hit my cheek. Two breaths. Three. Four. I didn’t know what I wanted. Then I heard him stop breathing, and a second later, I felt his lips on my mouth. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with him before, hungry, wanting, desperate. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft that it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it waslike a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them. My mouth parted and stilled; it was so quiet, a whisper, not a shout. Cole’s hand touched my neck, thumb pressed into theskin next to my jaw. It wasn’t a touch that said “I need more”. It was a touch that said “I want this.”It was all completely soundless. I didn’t think either of us was breathing.Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered.He said, “That’s how I would kiss you, if I loved you.

Men have always hated the wolf.""Why?" said the boy indignantly, suddenly looking very unhappy indeed."Maybe because they see something in the wolf that they hate and fear in themselves. Maybe because wolves take their sheep and goats, as if we shouldn't all share life's bounty.

I believe that the wolf can change everything, if he just want to change.