Best 157 of Wolves quotes - MyQuotes
Wolves did not keep secrets from one another. They didn’t worry about having enough money or finishing school or winning races . They didn’t interfere with nature and have to figure out what was too much and what was enough. They were nature.
Wolves fail to hide their integrity just like the way men fail to hide their own animality.
The set of her chin suggested she might have slain a dragon before breakfast. The look in her eyes suggested she might, in fact, have eaten it.
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.
Lailah Gifty Akita
A sheep in wolves clothing!
Nervous? He grinned. “A little. I have my virtue to consider.” She gave a little wiggle.
History books say that kings and dukes and generals start wars. Don't believe it. We start them, you and I. Every time we turn away, keep quiet, stay out of it, behave ourselves.
This is a dark tale. A grim tale. It's a tale from another time, a time when wolves waited for girls in the forest, beasts paced the halls of cursed castles, and witches lurked in gingerbread houses with sugar-kissed roofs. That time is long gone. But the wolves are still here and twice as clever. The beasts remain. And death still hides in a dusting of white. It's grim for any girl who loses her way. Grimmer still for a girl her loses herself. Know that it's dangerous to stray from the path. But it's far more dangerous not to.
Fairy tales give it to us straight. They tell us something profound and essential - that the woods are real, and dark, and full of wolves. That we will, at times, find ourselves hopelessly lost in them. But these tales also tell us that we are all that we need, that we have all we need - guts, smarts, and maybe a pocketful of breadcrumbs - to find our way home.
More often than not, the wolves showed themselves in other ways—a track etched in the mud, a few scats here and there, the well-chewed, moss-covered bones of a Sitka blacktailed deer, and, most frequently and possibly most grand of all, a late-evening chorus of howls heard from the deck of our boat at a lonely anchorage. The sound echoed softly off the high granite walls of some slope or side hill, somewhere where the wolves hunted in the vast sea of verdant rain forest.
Wolf Speaks: I wander mountains high and river pathways I seek cover in deep forests from hunters’ cruel knives Yet my cousins warm your hearts with love and loyalty Love me also even though you do not command my freedom path
Accidenti, hai un buon odore. Cos’è, comunque? Sembra un po’ come...» Diede un’altra annusata dubbiosa. «Biscotti con gocce di cioccolato appena usciti dal forno. Ho lo stesso odore per te?» «No.» Rory scosse la testa con decisione. Casey sembrò un po’ spiazzato. «Oh. Beh, okay.» «No,» sospirò Rory, «profumi di zucchero filato.
Wolves and Doves mate for life. I hope in the next life I am one of the two.
Io lupo della steppa trotto solo solo, nel mondo ormai di neve bianco... [...] e con amor, con affezion sincera, delle tenere carni farei strazio, finché di sangue veramente sazio a urlare andrei dentro la notte nera.
The fleeting systems lapse like foam,'" he mumbled what was evidently a quotation. "That's it—foam, and fleeting. All man's toil upon the planet was just so much foam. He domesticated the serviceable animals, destroyed the hostile ones, and cleared the land of its wild vegetation. And then he passed, and the flood of primordial life rolled back again, sweeping his handiwork away—the weeds and the forest inundated his fields, the beasts of prey swept over his flocks, and now there are wolves on the Cliff House beach." He was appalled by the thought. "Where four million people disported themselves, the wild wolves roam to-day, and the savage progeny of our loins, with prehistoric weapons, defend themselves against the fanged despoilers. Think of it! And all because of the Scarlet Death—
Most people are like sheep. Nice, harmless creatures who want nothing more than to be left alone so they can graze. But then of course there are wolves. Who want nothing more than to eat the sheep. But there’s a third kind of person. The sheepdog. Sheepdogs have fangs like wolves. But their instinct isn’t predation. It’s protection. All they want, what they live for, is to protect the flock.
Coyotes, it turns out, are also a kind of wolf. They shared a common ancestor with gray wolves down to about 3.2 million years ago, when coyote and gray wolf ancestors began to separate, first geographically, then, as distance increased, genetically.
Even a wolf knows how to be polite when animalistic humans have no clue about politeness
The wolves in the woods have sharp teeth and long claws, but it's the wolf inside who will tear you apart.
She was starting to like this dragon… way too much.
There seemed a strange stillness over everything; but as I listened I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count's eyes gleamed, and he said:- 'Listen to them- the children of the night. What music they make!' Seeing, I suppose, some expression in my face strange to him, he added:- 'Ah, sir, you dwellers in the city cannot enter into the feelings of the hunter.
I'm out to change people's attitudes about them. Wolves are a whole lot more than just predators who feast on a rancher's herd. They're smart and clever and loyal and courageours, and sometimes they do really stupid, silly things, just like people.
You can't be the rapist and the prince both, he thinks.
Mislabeled the sign,” a cocky voice called from the door. “Should read ‘Doggie Daycare’ with the number of pups packed into this place.
I never saw true beauty till this night.
Grief is like an ocean. It comes in waves - some waves are bigger than others and you cannot prepare for it.
The Canis Lupus, both wolf and man, were meant to be a family with one another. We gain strength through our bond with each other.
Wolves hate werewolves.' 'What? That can't be right! When she's wolf-shaped she's just like a wolf!' 'So? When she's human-shaped she's just like a human. And what's that got to do with anything? Humans don't like werewolves. Wolves don't like werewolves. People don't like wolves that can think like people, an' people don't like people who can act like wolves. Which just goes to show that people are the same everywhere.' said Gaspode. He assessed this sentence and added, 'Even when they're wolves.
Okay, I thought wolves had packs. Do you have a pack?” “Not in the traditional sense.” “Sorry, Nick, but when it comes to werewolves, I don’t know what the traditional sense is.” “I don’t run with other wolves.” I nod. I wait. I finally give up and say, “So you run with . . .” He winces. “Coyotes. But they have some wolf DNA.” It’s hard not to smile. “You are alpha at least, right?” “Of course I’m alpha.” He almost growls at me.
Do you have a thing against knights?” “Pretty boys who run around slaying dragons to save the fair maiden?” He let the sarcasm dangle for a moment. “Nah. I’m just not one.
With the wolves around, your humbleness is your worst adversary.
David Paul Kirkpatrick
Take heart. Love has overcome the wild world. Dogs were once wolves.
There weren't always happy endings and children would do well to know that vile things could happen to them, that witches and wolves were desperate to steal them should they be disobedient or foolish or simply unlucky.
The door clicked. She inhaled a tiny gasp. "You should use the deadbolt." "I was expecting you," she said. "I was afraid you might change your mind." "No, Reid. I haven't changed my mind. No games, right?" His hot gaze raked slowly up and down her body. He doffed his hat and tossed it on the chair. "You're a sight for sore eyes, Haley Cooper. His voice was low and husky, inciting tiny ripples deep inside her sex. He was in tight control, but his desire was palpable, like some powerful force that was about to unleash. He extended his hand. She approached with an intentional slow and seductive sway of her hips, shivering again as their gazes met and held. Oh dear God. All the foreplay she needed was right there, reflected in his blue eyes.
Feeling your body beneath me was the closest to heaven that I shall ever come.” He spoke not in a whisper but on an intimate level, his voice rolling like the caress of dark velvet. “Your skin, your mouth, your body, your sweet, sweet moans, and your blood… I want them all. I want quite a bit more, actually. So you best prepare yourself, my lady. Since I’m already damned, I aim to have all of you. I want to see that look of ecstasy on your face over and over again when I’m buried deep inside you and you’re screaming my name.
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.
I have waltzed with wolves and howled at the moon. But my heart will always remember the slow-dance that ended much too soon.
I’d trust him with my life… unless a decision came down to my life or his.
The thing about an Alpha, male or female, is that they can lead. When things get desperate they attack instead of retreat.
Man needs to do some growing up. This need is manifested, among other ways, by the emotional unreason he tends to show toward the behavior of wild creatures. The immoderations and inconsistencies in his attitude toward wolves or other predatory or competing species are particularly revealing a lack of maturity.
Does that mean that the grass doesn't constitute a life? That the grassland isn't a life? Out here, the grass and the grassland are the life, the big life. All else is the little life that depends on the big life for survival. Even wolves and humans are little life. Creatures that eat grass are worse than creatures that eat meat. To you, the gazelle is to be pitied. So the grass isn't to be pitied, is that it? The gazelles have four fast-moving legs, and most of the time wolves spit up blood from exhaustion trying to catch them. When the gazelles are thirsty, they run to the river to drink, and when they're cold, they run to a warm spot on the mountain to soak up some sun. But the grass? Grass is the big life, yet it is most fragile, the most miserable life. Its roots are shallow, the soil is thin, and though it lives on the ground, it cannot run away. Anyone can step on it, eat it, chew it, crush it. A urinating horse can burn a large spot in it. And if the grass grows in sand or in the cracks between rocks, it is even shorter, because it cannot grow flowers, which means it cannot spread its seeds. For us Mongols, there's nothing more deserving of pity than the grass. If you want to talk about killing, the the gazelles kill more grass than any mowing machine could. When they graze the land, isn't that killing? Isn't that taking the big life of the grassland? When you kill off the big life of the grassland, all the little lives are doomed. The damage done by the gazelles far outstrips any done by the wolves. The yellow gazelles are the deadliest, for they can end the lives of the people here.
A good man is a whole lot more satisfying than a thermal blanket and a vibrator." "Grams! I can't believe you just said that!" Her grandmother replied with a win. "I may be old, sweetheart, but I'm not dead yet.
I didn't care, because I loved him, and that was the end of every argument and the beginning of every promise.
Give me one more night to taste the dark When wolves imitate a lone dog's bark Let those secrets remain unspoken Fallen angel's heart now lover's token Light grows dim burying riddle’s death Just breathe to free your one last breath
Wolves, and stars, and snow: Those things made sense.
I crawled over the mountain of death, Watching the corpses roll down like the stones. Searching for the light which everyone always spoke of. I fought the wolves and also the death, and knocked the door, which already had a thousand handprints, soaked with blood. The door opened finally and I saw the light, which hit me in the heart and pushed me down the steep. I fell into the never ending pit, watching others crawl up the mountain in the search of light.
The girl burst out laughing; she knew she was nobody's meat.
I'll make it pleasurable for you, Injun, he promised. And we'll do it face to face, so your wolf won't think I'm dominating you. No doggy style.
The black wolf’s curse awakes every time that a full moon points in the middle of the sky.
They love me like a pack of wolves. Ernest