Best 157 quotes in «wolves quotes» category

He brought up both hands to hold my face. "I would die for you, Isabelle." "No." I shook my head. "Live for me.

Hemlock's attentions had not only healed Aelfric's body of its wounds but also given him curious sensitivity. Aside from the voice in his mind, he felt things in the natural surroundings: the presence of beasts, the whispers of trees to the overcast skies, anger in the earth and sea. Ravens followed him around as they did wolves. And he had developed a rough ability to see in the dark.

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

He set Lori on the bed. "You were the only wolf that chased my tail around, trying to grab hold. No other cub would dare.

His lazy grin incinerated the rest of my heart.

He turned and narrowed his eyes at her. "There is a certain sort of girl who wants the wolf to eat out of her hand. If you are such, I'll warn you, she doesn't keep her fingers long." Emily met his gaze " Some wolves can be tamed." "Then we call them lapdogs, my dear- and you'll put no leash on me.

He was a big, bad dragon shifter, a breed of male she realized took Neanderthal to a whole new level.

He was going to make her his…

His mind drifted back to times past. He missed the companionship of his old pack. He had grown up in the pack and knew each wolf by sight and smell. They had played and hunted, bred and cared for the young, and fought and died together. His bonds to the other wolves had been very close – particularly his mate. She had been the strongest and the swiftest female. She had reared their young well and had always yelped and whined with affection after he returned from the hunt. He remembered the comfort he had felt on so many starry nights, lying beside her with his head resting upon her neck in a sign of affection. However, she was gone now, and he could not bring her back. The two-legged ones had seen to that.

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.

I could shoot you in the foot." "Please do. At least then I wouldn't have to endure this sock humiliation any longer.

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.

I can’t go on saving the world if it means neglecting my duties as a cheerleader.

I could do it. I could rip your life out like a fury, like a beast. I could stand over you with my red hands and lap the heart out of your hollow chest. I'm a wolf, I'm a woman, I'm a building hurricane. I'm whole-way sharp teeth, soul-sick wet claws. I say "love me," and you say, "you're killing me." I say, "i'd die for you," and you say," You'd kill for me—that's not the same thing.

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.

I didn't care, because I loved him, and that was the end of every argument and the beginning of every promise.

A wolf's sense of hearing is remarkably acute. A wolf can detect another's howl from as far as nineteen kilometres away.

I dated one of the guys." Surprised, Paul raised a brow... "If you had been around and wearing your wet suit, I probably wouldn't have dated him." He smiled a little at her comment. He knew for certain she wouldn't have dated the guy, wet suit or no, if Paul had been around.

I'd expected to see yellow eyes, like a dog; instead, I realised as I stared back, that they weren't animal eyes... They were human eyes!

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.

I don't know how you drink this straight. You're badass." "That's why I am your boss-

I’d trust him with my life… unless a decision came down to my life or his.

I, for one, would keep the promise I had made.

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 hear a siren and, if we weren’t already in a hospital, I would have assumed they were coming for nearly everyone in this room.

In the land of the crazies, we are all sane.

I know you're more than fae." She just grinned. "It's true, I'm part fae, part awesome.

I lay in bed that night, a first-time drunkard at seven years of age, pondering the punishment I knew would arrive on callused palms. In the forest, as if sensing my plight, wolves howled nocturnal laments. The magnificent lunar lullabies of my lupine brethren wooed me into a deep and cleansing sleep.

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.

I'll buy you a blow-up doll. I'm sure my mate won't mind when I explain how hard up you are." She didn't bother to punch him this time, just glared with promise of future retaliation. "Very funny. You wouldn't be laughing if you knew how sexually frustrated I am right now." [...] "The last time was when that SilverBlade sentinel was in town for a communications meeting." All amusement left Dorian's face. "You serious? That was months ago." A very long time to go without intimate touch. "Merce, that could get dangerous." "I know. Do you think I don't know?" She thrust her hands through her hair. "Damn it Dorian! It's getting to the point where I'm starting to wonder if some of the wolves would be good in bed. [...] "Cat and wolf isn't a ... um ... normal combination." "And Psy and cat is?" She made a face at him. "Yeah, yeah I know. Cat and wolf is strange." [...] "How about one of the Rats?" Dorian's eyes gleamed.

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.

I love that sound,” he said against her lips, sucking her bottom lip. “I love it when you make me make that sound.

I never saw true beauty till this night.

I never dreamed redemption would be this good.

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.

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.

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.

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.

It’s hard to get mad at you when you’re being all logical.

itt was snowing as if you could hear wolves howling

It's okay, he says, it's ok, When we're gone, the wolves can have their homecoming

Love, not hate, is the burden we carry. But that fact makes it no lighter.

Los milicianos corrieron por las calles mientras los ciudadanos se escondían, desesperados, entre casas viejas, en los pozos, en las despensas de sus vecinos. Cerraban las puertas los padres de familia y asían con fuerza sus mejores cuchillos. Las mujeres abrazaban a sus hijos, las sirvientas aseguraban las ventanas. Algunos, los más temerosos, se acurrucaban en el camastro con la débil seguridad de las velas encendidas. Esa noche, los lobos tomaron Barcelona, y en ese ferviente caos de guerra y muerte, Fortuna desenvainó su espada. Había entendido el mensaje. «Gryal está aquí», decían los lobos. «Ha vuelto la primavera», decía su aullido.

I will howl with the wolves, soar above the eagles and roam wild with the Mustang. I will breathe life into the sunrise atop a mountain, bathe naked in the streams, dance in the sunset and love beneath the stars, travelling far and wide, seeking new experiences with those who dare to run with the wind, dare to touch the storm that is me...

Nervous? He grinned. “A little. I have my virtue to consider.” She gave a little wiggle.

Maar zolang ze er nog is, zullen in de winternachten de wolvenbenden de wildernis luid huilend blijven doorkruisen. Ze waren er reeds vanaf het begin van de wereld. En ondanks het feit, dat de mensheid de wolven van het begin af haatte en onafgebroken beoorloogde en dat in de verder nog komende eeuwen steeds zal blijven doen, zullen ze tot aan de dag van het laatste oordeel de wereld blijven bevolken. De reden hiervan is, dat ze het symbool der wildernis zelf zijn en het denkbeeld, dat de wildernis zou blijven voortgaan te bestaan, maar zonder wolven, is nog vreemder dan zich een natie zonder vlag te denken.

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

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.

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.

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.