Wolves Quotes - Page 2

Wolves, and stars, and snow: Those things made sense.

She had no time for sleep, with the weight of the world upon her shoulders. And she feared to dream. Sleep is a little death, dreams the whisperings of the Other, who would drag us all into his eternal night.

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.

People who entered the Courtyard without an invitation were just plain crazy! Wolves were big and scary and so fluffy, how could anyone resist hugging one just to feel all that fur?“Ignore the fluffy,” she muttered. “Remember the part about big and scary.

Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long.

The deer hovered by the trees beyond as the sounds of the ravening wolves came to them across the grass, their own senses almost frozen in impotent horror.

When the wildish woman has an idea, the friend or lover will never say, "Well, I don't know . . . sounds really dumb [grandiose, undoable, expensive, etc.] to me." A right friend will never say that. They might say instead . . . "I don't know if I understand. Tell me how you see it. Tell me how it will work.

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.

Are you scared of going in to see the raghnaid [the council]?” asked a gray female pup. “Are you cag mag [crazy]? If a bear was his Milk Giver, you think he’s scared of the raghnaid?

The wild is where you find it, not in some distant world relegated to a nostalgic past or an idealized future; its presence is not black or white, bad or good, corrupted or innocent... We are of that nature, not apart from it. We survive because of it, not instead of it.

Outside, the dogs whine over the wind. They sense the wolves - they sense the wild. It calls to them, like it calls to me, and I wonder sometimes if we are the only ones who hear it.

Some girls are full of heartache and poetry and those are the kind of girls who try to save wolves instead of running away from them.

Are you naked?" he rasped out.tSwallowing hard, she nodded.

I have waltzed with wolves and howled at the moon. But my heart will always remember the slow-dance that ended much too soon.

The Goth boy stares at me, and I give him a what-are-you-looking-at stare right back. “I’m dead,” he says in a dull monotone. “Pardon me?” Adriana asks, but he keeps staring at me. “You’re dead, too. Look at your veins. They’re blue.” He points at my forearms where dark veins run their lengths. “You’re rotting like me.” I glance to Adriana, hands clasped and praying that she won’t leave me here. Adriana’s stopped crying now and squints at the boy before standing to pull closed the curtain that rings my cot. “Crazy,” she says with an uncertain smile. “You’re not rotting.” . . . ninety-nine, one hundred . “No,” I reply. “But I will if you leave me here.

With the wolves around, your humbleness is your worst adversary.

He rested his head on top of mine and whispered, "I'm warning you now. I'm a horrible patient."tI smiled in spite of myself and pulled back. "Of course you are. That's why you're a doctor.

Buy a gift for a dog, and you'll be amazed at the way it will dance and swerve its tail, but if don't have anything to offer to it, it won't even recognize your arrival; such are the attributes of fake friends.

A lamb among wolves!

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.

The wolves knew when it was time to stop looking for what they'd lost, to focus instead on what was yet to come.

Can you handle it?"t"Hell yeah."t"I mean..." Tom glanced around the tavern where pack members filled nearly every chair at the wooden tables. The room was humming with conversation. He leaned forward. "Because of the ghosts."t"That don't exist."t"Right."t"Yeah, I can handle it.

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 your dearest friend whom you reveal most of your secrets to becomes so deadly and unfriendly without knowing that they were not really your friend.

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.

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

That we can never know," answered the wolf angrily. "That's for the future. But what we can know is the importance of what we owe to the present. Here and now, and nowhere else. For nothing else exists, except in our minds. What we owe to ourselves, and to those we're bound to. And we can at least hope to make a better future, for everything.

Wolves are social. They need their pack.

I am an equation that only she solves, These X's and Y's by other names called, My way of division is desperatley flawed, while I multiply days without her.

We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be –the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer – which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself.

Wolves and women are relational by nature, inquiring, possessed of great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive, intensely concerned with their young, their mate, and their pack. They are experienced in adapting to constantly changing circumstances; they are fiercely stalwart and very brave.

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

There was really way too much hotness going on back there.

Do you know how to use a pool cue?" Paul asked her.t"To play pool or to fight?" she asked as Paul pulled the door open and Allan went in first. "Balls are my specialty.

Don't be afraid to live you life as a lone wolf, it is not as bad then, you will be disappointed less, your heart will be unbreakable, you will be stronger than the rest, for you know how to take pain without another, you will survive, your mental strength will be sharpened, your claws sharper, and your resistance to pain stronger.

Samantha sighed. “Then I’ll get out of the damned car, figure out which wolf in this damnable forest is you, and beat you until you change back. If that doesn’t work, so help me god, I’ll collar your mangy ass and sell you on eBay.

Dreams are like the old stories where wolves are seekers always running, and women carry fire in their bare hands and light the dark paths before them.Old stories hold that the birds will fly all the miles of the world to tell your secrets to the rising moon, and men will walk over oceans of ice to find one truth.

Xuan smiled at the thought of men sleeping peacefully next to those they would try to kill in daylight. Only humanity could have conceived such a strange and artificial way to die. Wolves might tear the flesh of deer, but they never slept and dreamed near their quarry.

To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn't stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one's place in the world. To say 'I am here.' To say 'I am.

Beware of those who are always hungry, for they will feed you to the wolves just to get paid.

Gage sighed. "This team was a whole hell of a lot easier to run before any of us had ever heard about The One. You know that, right?"tMaybe." Becker grinned. "But it wasn't nearly as interesting.

Mislabeled the sign,” a cocky voice called from the door. “Should read ‘Doggie Daycare’ with the number of pups packed into this place.

She slept with wolves without fear, for the wolves knew a lion was among them.

I often wondered how it would be to tramp off into the mountains and keep going until I was exhausted, then simply sink into the snow and fall asleep. Then the wolves could have me.To want to die in the forest and be eaten by wolves: another marker of incipient madness.

It should be noted, as with so many legends and popularly accepted truths created out of political motivation: There, in fact, is no evidence that the hundreds of murders historically attributed to the werewolves of Gévaudan were actually caused by wolves. As with all witchhunts, the endless battle against ignorance requires one to always keep an open mind and sharp wits when considering such rumors - especially the rumors we choose to enjoy.

My father said the weakest camel draws the wolves.” “Mine told me to hide until the wolves go away,” Abban replied.

You're asking the cyborg fugitive and the wild animal to be the welcoming committee? That's adorable.

Wolves are brotherly," he said. "They love each other, and if you learn to speak to them, they will love you too.

Fear isn't so difficult to understand. After all, weren't we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is exactly the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It's just a different wolf. This fright complex is rooted in every individual.

for frail but surprisingly strong fairies who had lost their way above groundfor burned mermaids and sick vampire girlsfor wild wolfish women with sharp teeth and leaves in their hair

Some people are not meant to live together, for they will destroy one another and annihilate themselves. Wolves and sheep cannot be put in the same place, for after eating the sheep, the wolves will starve to death.

Grace stopped in the door, dimly silhouetted by the dull gray morning light, and looked back at me, at my eyes, my mouth, my hands, in a way that made something inside me knot and unknot unbearably.I didn't think I belonged here in her world, a boy stuck between two lives, dragging the dangers of the wolves with me, but when she said my name, waiting for me to follow, I knew I'd do anything to stay with her.

The Lord God had created all animals, and had chosen out the wolf to be his dog.

We are wolves, which are wild dogs, and this is our place in the city. We are small and our house is small on our small urban street. We can see the city and the train line and it's beautiful in its own dangerous way. Dangerous because it's shared and taken and fought for.That's the best way I can put it, and thinking about it, when I walk past the tiny houses on our street, I wonder about the stories inside them. I wonder hard, because houses must have walls and rooftops for a reason. My only query is the windows. Why do they have windows? Is it to let a glimpse of the world in? Or for us to see out?

People should never surprise you. Humans have basic animal drives that are going to make people predictable. Don’t let them shock you. A person is too easily predicted. Now, Shirley listen closely. There are wolves and there are sheep. Most people are sheep. Even if a person is a sheep, don’t turn your back to them. There is a reason that sheep are so easily controlled...

Support Imagination. Read a book.

What's that supposed to mean? A wolf's head on a stick. Big wolf barbecue tonight? Bring your own wolf?