Best 3947 quotes in «dog quotes» category

LOOK AT HIM! Mum, LOOK! OUR NEW DOG! ISN’T HE A BEAUTY?” “Another DOG!” came Maia’s amazed voice.

Looked from different aspects hate just cause more problems it doesn't solve. I hate dogs, I hate black people, I hate yellow people, I hate this person, I hate my father, I hate my mother. And in the end what happens?? It gets even more worse, what are you planning better life or a worse life - that's my question?!

Love-that which biologists, nervous about being misunderstood call "attachment"-fuels the bond between dog and master or mistress.

Many of the most charming women I know possess at least on cat or dog. Maybe after getting used to an affectionate quadruped it is hard to settle for a man.

Many writers make the mistake of making their readers appear like Lazarus, without any iota of care, throwing down books to readers to crunch as if they are dogs.

Master the dog and you shall master yourself.

maybe somebody finally shot the dog.

Master the dog, and in so doing you shall master yourself.

My dog’s Facebook status: Tried to save the master from the vacuum cleaner today… He just yelled at me.

Men (who cheat) do not cheat because they are dogs. They are (regarded as) dogs because they cheat.

My emotions were fast becoming those of a dog, as though, now my search was over, a ghost had been vanquished. The ghost was my humanness. I felt free, free as any bird in the sky. Free to live as a dog. I ran for nearly a day and, when I finally dropped, the last remnants of my old self had been purged.

Meditation expands our inner being. The inner being is like a small, individual river flowering towards the Ocean. In meditation, I feel how my inner being expands into an inner ocean, which is part of everything, which is one with Existence. Through the inner being, we come in contact with the inner ocean, the undefined and boundless within ourselves, where we are one with life. We realize that God is part of life. We realize that God is not a person, but the consciousness that is part of everything. We find God in a flower, in a tree, in the eyes of a child or in a playful dog. Through discovering our inner being, we discover that we are also part of the flower, the child or the dog. We realize that God is everywhere.

Men like me survive in a world where dog eats dog

Men looove pussy. They can never get enough of it. If you send a guy a pussy pic, he's gonna think you're awesome. And he assumes you feel the same way if he sends you an unsolicited dick pic. He loves jerking off while looking at pussy, and in his mind he's certain that you must love dick pics as much as he loves pussy pics. It is such a given to him, it never even occurred to him that it might not be true. If you have a dog, you know what I'm talking about. Sometimes a dog brings you his favorite toy in the whole world. And he puts it in your lap. Not because he wants you to throw it. This is not for him. This is for you. He wants you to have it. When you look at his toy, all you see is a dirty old sock, covered in crusty dried dog spit. But that's not what he sees. To him that sock is the most awesome thing in the whole world. And he is putting The Most Awesome Thing In The Whole World in your lap. Then he sits down in front of you and stares into your eyes as if to say: "This is my gift to you. May it give you the same endless hours of joy and happiness that it has given me." And that's exactly what men think when they send you a dick pic.

No current. No electricity. No love. Just the barking of a mad dog like a shout in the sad dark.

Neighbours complaining about someone’s dog making an awful racket. You could hardly blame the poor beast, its owner had died in her bed at least a fortnight before and there hadn’t been much left of the old girl worth eating.

Nelson is glad to see a handler and her dog coming towards him. The recognises the woman as Jan Adams, famous in Norfolk for having won several medals for bravery. Her dog, a beautiful long-haired German Shepherd is a bit of a celebrity too. What was his name again? "Barney" says Jan in answer to his question. "What's going on?" Nelson explains about the attack. Barney looks at him, head on one side, as if her too might be about to ask a question.

Nowadays we got dog porn books… Book collection of the whole life of 20 years meat breathing… shitting, eating, drinking, sleeping… walking… ruining…

Non c’è niente da fare, l’uomo è un cane che si mangia la coda. Gira in cerchio fino a consumarsi.

Oblivious of Harlow, for whom they had all a dog's amusedly tolerant contempt for an inefficient human leader, the quintet swept away on the track.

Once we'd balled up our burrito wrappers and tossed them into the trash, Jake and I walked several blocks from El Farolito to the home of Gus, a rescued shepherd mix that I walked a few afternoons each week. Jake sat on the stoop while I ran upstairs. As usual, Gus was waiting for me at the door of his apartment,; I could hear his tail pounding the floor as I turned the key in the lock. Once I got inside, he hopped around me, nipping delicately at my fingers, nails clackety-clacking at the floor, his tail an ecstatic black blur. I knelt down in front of him, pressed his floppy, expressive ears flat back against his head, and planted a kiss on the side of his long, black schnoz. He whined happily, his whole body shimmying. Gus was one of those dogs who had an entirely different personality at home, where his sense of security gave him the confidence to be joyous and goofy. Out on the street, the shelter pup in him came out and he turned skittish and sorrowful, his tan quotation mark eyebrows pressing together to turn his forehead into a series of of anxious wrinkles. Needless to say, I was gaga for Gus and his layered personality. Downstairs, I could see right away that Jake loved dogs as much as I did. I had to warn him not to try too hard with Gus; too much attention from a stranger would only make Gus more nervous out there in the big loud world. Jake managed to restrain himself for half a block, but soon was cooing down to Gus, running his hand down the length of his silky black-and-tan coat, and passing him a little piece of chorizo from a napkin that he'd somehow slipped into his pocket at El Farolito without me noticing. Gus pressed himself against Jack's leg and looked adoringly up at him as he gobbled the meat, his tail for a moment wagging as freely as it did at home.

One day Your dog is going to safe your life, that's a fact.

On Love - Love without trust is the love you give a dog. You may call that cute little mutt a member of the family but you don't let him in the kitchen when there's a roast on the table.

Outside, a dog sprawls among the empty tables, its body rocking with the evening heat. Someone has given it a hamburger which first it guards, then, eventually, eats. It's some kind of winter dog, a malamute perhaps, a dog of marvellous subtle greys and whites. Also of transparent intelligence, and less transparent motive. The beauty of an animal like this appears to fix it in our expectations. But while its beauty says one thing, its heart may say another.

Our loves are not given but lent, at compound interest of cent percent; though, it is not always the case, I believe, that the longer we've kept it the more do we grieve for when debts are payable, right or wrong, a short time loan is as bad as a loan. So why in Heaven, before we are there, should we give our heart to a dog to tear?

Out, in Henry’s view, is a madhouse. Historians of social lunacy will confirm that this is literally the case, that the mad have been let out of the asylums and allowed to walk the streets. But Henry doesn’t mean that. By mad, nerve-strung Henry means revving when you’re stationary and driving with your hand on your horn – read that sexually if you like, but Henry has in mind incessant honking – he means text messaging the person standing next to you, or being wired up so that you can speak into thin air, conversing with God is how it looks to Henry, or wearing running shoes when you’re not running, or coming up to Henry with a bad face and a dog on a piece of string and asking him for money. Why would Henry give someone with a bad face money? Because of the dog? Because of the string?

On the steps leading to a door was a scrub brush that was blue. I snatched it quick and ran for home because it was just the thing to chew.

Our loves are not given but lent, at compound interest of cent percent; though, it is not always the case, I believe, that the longer we've kept it the more do we grieve for when debts are payable, right or wrong, a short time loan is as bad as a long. So why in Heaven, before we are there, should we give our heart to a dog to tear?

Pets reflect you like mirrors. When you are happy, you can see your dog smiling and when you are sad, your cat cries.

People who write poetry while walking their dog can't possibly write poetry i'd be fucking interested in

Pets enrich our lives...and poop on our floors!

Poor, dear old Mack, he was ninety-eight per cent perfect. His two percent failing was that he had absolutely no idea of the value or the power of arbitration. He was the veteran of a hundred battles, and I never once could say to the other fellow, 'Your dog started it.

Quiet breathed like some darkening monster at the window of Theo’s mind He could not say “bad dog.” He could not say “good boy.” He could not say anything. .

Qu'est-ce qu'un chien, sinon une machine à aimer ? On lui présente un être humain, en lui donnant pour mission de l'aimer - et aussi disgracieux, pervers, déformé ou stupide soit-il, le chien l'aime. Cette caractéristique était si surprenante, si frappante pour les humains de l'ancienne race que la plupart - tous les témoignages concordent - en venaient à aimer leur chien en retour. le chien était donc une machine à aimer à effet d'entraînement - dont l'efficacité, cependant, restait limitée aux chiens, et ne s'étendait jamais aux autres hommes. (La possibilité d'une île, Danie l25,2)

Results for "Getting a dog is like getting married. It teaches you to be less self-centered, to accept sudden, surprising outbursts of affection, and not to be upset by a few scratches on your car.

Reginald, the dog-bear," I repeated. "Or bear-dog," she reminded me. "That's terrible," I said in mock solemnity. "He's already not sure what he is- a dog, a bear... a bog..." She giggled. "And then you tag him with the name Reginald?" I shook my head.

Shadow’s heart stopped. While Theo did not observe it with his eyes, he felt the life juice leave the dog’s body. In the final shudder of the death throe, Shadow gave up his ghost.

Romance is everything to turn it into a cause for given is priceless

Salila!” said Maia, outraged. “Another DOG? ON TOP OF ALL THE OTHER ANIMALS?” “SO WHAT....?” I began, and then got cut off as Polly attempted to land her shaggy grey bulk into my lap, unmindful as ever of our respective sizes, long floppy ears flopping and entire behind wagging, whipping her long tail, and barking in ear-deafening bursts.

She climbed into the carriage and sat down across from the other lady. Pip hopped inside. Miss Royle smiled down at the terrier. "Oh, what a sweet little dog!" Pip wagged his tail and placed his front paws on Miss Royle's skirts for a pat and Bridget began to suspect he was a flirt.

She could not bear the tenderness which a dog would evoke, she did not want the pain of another love. She knew how very much, how desperately, she would love her dog; and dogs are vulnerable and short-lived and die.

Shadow loved Emma. She was an innocent. She was a girl without a crack in her heart. He wore the space helmet. He wore the red lipstick. Largely, the lipstick was scrawled onto his old teeth, for Emma had not yet learned to color inside the lines.

She would talk of castles and princesses and a woman named Scheherazade who had a thousand and one stories to tell. Shadow loved it when Emma told him her dreams. With her little warm fingers, Emma stroked his head as if he were but a puppy with all the strength of his youth yet to come, for the greatest joy in life is the conviction that we are loved in spite of ourselves. His legs may have been faded yellow but Shadow knew that he was loved by Theo’s daughter.

She heard the door close as she examined the dog. "You're looking much better," she told the animal. "Good enough that Jean-Marie might be able to take you outside to wash you. Oh, don't get up." This last was said nervously as the dog climbed laboriously to his feet. "Really, you shouldn't." Eve watched wide-eyed as the animal staggered toward her. "Sit back down, 'please,'" she said, arms raised, but the animal either didn't know what an order was or ignored hers. He walked unsteadily right to her as Eve glanced wildly toward the closed door, hoping that Jean-Marie would make a sudden, early reappearance. And then the animal laid his big head on her knees. "Oh," she said, for she had no idea what else to do. The dog was 'looking' at her with huge brown eyes, his forehead wrinkled up as though he was worried. His enormous drooping jowls were spread like a messy black skirt upon her lap, and the animal's triangular ears were back. Actually it was rather adorable. Hesitantly Eve laid her palm very gently on the beast's head. Slowly the dog's tail swayed back and forth, and he gave a great sigh.

Slowly, deliberately, the dog turned from the black wolf and walked toward the man. He was a dog, and dogs chose men.

Si chinò per accarezzarmi. Fece scorrere la mano lungo la schiena e poi sotto al mento. «Ogni cane dovrebbe iniziare la giornata con una bella grattatina sotto il mento» dichiarò. Spostò la mano sopra la testa. «Posso accarezzarti qui?» mi chiese. «Sulla testa? So che non piace a tutti i cani». Rimasi immobile, e chiusi gli occhi. «Socchiudi gli occhi!» esclamò Susan. «Ottimo segno».

Smells good," Leo called from the front room, where he was sitting in his favorite chair by the stove, the dog curled up on a blanket in front of the fire. Mac lifted his nose and sniffed the air. "He thinks so, too." "The dog knows his apples." Alice laughed. "He should. He's named after one.

Snow's table manners are atrocious - it's like watching a wild dog eat. A wild dog you'd like to slip the tongue.

Sometimes we take leaps of faith, and sometimes we take tiny steps. Even the tiniest step can require a lot of courage. Like climbing out of denial and admitting my real need for help. Like trusting someone who said I wouldn’t die from eating a bowl of pasta, and taking another bite. Like reaching for a pen or a yoga mat when what I really wanted to do was reach for a cookie. Like searching for a smile in my heart when my mind was busy screaming about how sad and serious I should be.

So many nights, I stared out at the inky black ocean, believing that if I could only learn how to eat again and keep my hands out of my throat, that would be enough. I prayed hard and desperately to God and the sun and the moon and the ocean and the universe and every shelter dog I’d ever met, as if they were all genies, that I wouldn’t ask for anything more. But perhaps God isn’t a collection of genies, and perhaps it’s okay to hope for more than relief. To hope big. To hope for Sunny’s limitless capacity to love.