Love From A Dog Quotes

My purpose, my whole life, had been to love him and be with him, to make him happy. I didn't want to cause any unhappiness now - in that way, I decided it was probably better than he wasn't here to see this, though I missed him so much at that moment the ache of it was as bad as the strange pains in my belly. ~ W. Bruce Cameron

Poor Cook, thought Captain, I must be kinder to her. She makes a splendid pet. How faithful she is! I always say you can't get the same love from a dog that you can from a human. So clever, too. I believe she understands every word I say. I believe they have souls, just like dogs. It's uncanny how canine a human can be, if you are kind to them and treat them well. I know for a fact that when some dogs in history died, their humans lay down on the grave and howled all night and refused food and pined away. It was just instinct, of course, not real intelligence, but all the same it makes you think. I believe that when a human does, it goes to a special heaven for humans, with kind dogs to look after it. ~ T.H. White

I am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me. ~ A.G.

For true conversion doth not consist in putting away great and outward sins only, but in descending deeply into your own self, searching into the inmost recesses of the heart, the secrets and closets, all the windings and turnings thereof; changing and renewing them throughout, with the grace that is given you: and so, by faith, you are converted from self-love to Divine love; from the world and all worldly concupiscences, to a spiritual and heavenly life; and from a participation of the pomps and pleasures thereof, to participating the merits and virtues of Christ, by believing his word, and walking in his steps. ~ Johann Arndt

From the perspective of someone with two grown and wonderful kids, that your instincts as parents are correct: a minute spent reading to your kids now will repay itself a million-fold later, not only because they love you for reading to them, but also because, years later, when they're gone and miles away, those quiet evenings, when you were tucked in with them, everything quiet but the sound of the page-turns, will, seem to you, I promise ... sacred. ~ George Saunders

It hit her like a sledgehammer, and it was then that she knew what to feel. A liquid trail of hate flooded her chest.
Knowing that she would hate him long and well filled her with pleasant anticipation, like when you know you are going to fall in love with someone and you wait for the happy signs. Hating BoyBoy, she could get on with it, and have the safety, the thrill, the consistency of that hatred as long as she wanted or needed it to define and strengthen her or protect her from routine vulnerabilities. ~ Toni Morrison

You struggle because you're locating all of the magic in your life outside of yourself. When you are loved, then you are lovable. When you are left behind, you are unlovable. When you "arrive" at some point of success and fame as a writer, you will be worthy. Until then, you are worthless.

As long as you imagine that the outside world will one day deliver to you the external rewards you need to feel happy, you will always perceive your survival as exhausting and perceive your life as a long slog to nowhere. Instead, you have to savor the tiny struggles of the day: The cold glass of water after a long run. The hot bath after hours of digging through the dirt. The satisfaction of writing a good sentence, a good paragraph. You MUST feel these things, because these aren't small rewards on the path to some big reward; these tiny things are everything. Savoring these things requires tuning in to your feelings, and it requires loving yourself instead of shoving your nose into your own question marks hour after hour, day after day.

You are not lost. You are here. Stop abandoning yourself. Stop repeating this myth about love and success that will land in your lap or evade you forever. Build a humble, flawed life from the rubble, and cherish that. There is nothing more glorious on the face of the earth than someone who refuses to give up, who refuses to give in to their most self-hating, discouraged, disillusioned self, and instead learns, slowly and painfully, ho ~ Heather Havrilesky

What kind of dog do you want?" "I don't know, Ari. One that comes from the shelter. You know, one of those dogs that someone's thrown away." "Yeah," I said. "But how will you know which one to pick? There's a lot of dogs at the shelter. And they all want to be saved." "It's because people are so mean. They throw dogs away like they're trash. I hate that. ~ Benjamin Alire Saenz

Wardress in a prison,was she, that old hippopotamus? That is significant, perhaps."
Sarah said:
"You mean that that is the cause of her tyranny? It is the habit of her former profession."
Gerard shook his head.
"No, that is approaching it from the wrong angle. There is some deep underlying compulsion. She does not love tyranny because she has been a wardress. Let us rather say that she became a wardress because she loved tyranny. In my theory it was a secret desire for power over other human beings that led her to adopt that profession."
His face was very grave.
"There are such strange things buried down in the unconscious. A lust for power - a lust for cruelty - a savage desire to tear and rend - all the inheritance of our past racial memories...They are all there, Miss King, all the cruelty and savagery and lust...We shut the door on them and deny them conscious life, but sometimes - they are too strong."
Sarah shivered. "I know."
Gerard continued: "We see it all around us today - in political creeds, in the conduct of nations. A reaction from humanitarianism - from pity - from brotherly good-will. The creeds sound well sometimes - a wise régime - a beneficent government - but imposed by force - resting on a basis of cruelty and fear. They are opening the door, these apostles of violence, they are letting up the old savagery, the old delight in cruelty for its own sake! Oh, it is difficult - Man is an animal very delicately balanced. ~ Agatha Christie

But there were years when, in search of what I thought was better, nobler things I denied these, my people, and my family. I forgot the songs they sung - and most of those songs are now dead; I erased their dialect from my tongue; I was ashamed of them and their ways of life. But now - yes, I love them; they are a part of my blood; they, with all their virtues and their faults, played a great part in forming my way of looking at life. ~ Agnes Smedley

And it is because they contain thus within themselves the hours of the past that human bodies have the power to hurt so terribly those who love them, because they contain the memories of so many joys and desires already effaced for them, but still cruel for the lover who contemplates and prolongs in the dimension of Time the beloved body of which he is jealous, so jealous that he may even wish for its destruction. For after death Time withdraws from the body, and the memories, so indifferent, grown so pale, are effaced in her who no longer exists, as they soon will be in the lover whom for a while they continue to torment but in whom before long they will perish, once the desire that owed their inspiration to a living body is no longer there to sustain them. Profound Albertine, whom I at once saw sleeping, and who was dead. ~ Marcel Proust

It was hard to imagine feeling that magical tingling sensation in the pit of her belly anytime soon. Best not to worry about it, she thought. She didn't need it. Well. She didn't want to need it. Yearning for love made her feel like a cat that was always twining around ankles, meowing Pet me, pet me, look at me, love me.
Better to be the cat gazing coolly down from a high wall, its expression inscrutable. The cat that shunned petting, that needed no one. Why couldn't she be that cat?
Be that cat!!! she wrote, drawing it into the corner of her page, cool and aloof. ~ Laini Taylor

Rescuing dogs is looked upon as a noble, trendy pursuit. But wouldn't rescuing a man from a homeless shelter be, in fact, more humane? ~ Greg Fitzsimmons

Speak," said my Master, "and be not afraid Of speaking, but speak out, and say to him What he demands with such solicitude." Whence I: "Thou peradventure marvellest, O antique spirit, at the smile I gave; But I will have more wonder seize upon thee. This one, who guides on high these eyes of mine, Is that Virgilius, from whom thou didst learn To sing aloud of men and of the Gods. If other cause thou to my smile imputedst, Abandon it as false, and trust it was Those words which thou hast spoken concerning him." Already he was stooping to embrace My Teacher's feet; but he said to him: "Brother, Do not; for shade thou art, and shade beholdest." And he uprising: "Now canst thou the sum Of love which warms me to thee comprehend, When this our vanity I disremember, Treating a shadow as substantial thing. ~ Dante Alighieri

It was a warship, after all. It was built, designed to glory in destruction, when it was considered appropriate. It found, as it was rightly and properly supposed to, an awful beauty in both the weaponry of war and the violence and devastation which that weaponry was capable of inflicting, and yet it knew that attractiveness stemmed from a kind of insecurity, a sort of childishness. It could see that - by some criteria - a warship, just by the perfectly articulated purity of its purpose, was the most beautiful single artifact the Culture was capable of producing, and at the same time understand the paucity of moral vision such a judgment implied. To fully appreciate the beauty of the weapon was to admit to a kind of shortsightedness close to blindness, to confess to a sort of stupidity. The weapon was not itself; nothing was solely itself. The weapon, like anything else, could only finally be judged by the effect it had on others, by the consequences it produced in some outside context, by its place in the rest of the universe. By this measure the love, or just the appreciation, of weapons was a kind of tragedy. ~ Iain M. Banks

I am small.
So are stars from a distance. It's all a matter of perspective. ~ C. Kennedy

Start by pulling him out of the fire and
hoping that he will forget the smell.
He was supposed to be an angel but they took him
from that light and turned him into something hungry,
something that forgets what his hands are for when they
aren't shaking.
He will lose so much, and you will watch it all happen
because you had him first, and you would let the world
break its own neck if it means keeping him.
Start by wiping the blood off of his chin and
pretending to understand.
Repeat to yourself
"I won't leave you, I won't leave you"
until you fall asleep and dream of the place
where nothing is red.
When is a monster not a monster?
Oh, when you love it.
Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.
Here are your upturned hands.
Give them to him and watch how he prays
like he is learning his first words.
Start by pulling him out of another fire,
and putting him back together with the pieces
you find on the floor.
There is so much to forgive, but you do not
know how to forget.
When is a monster not a monster?
Oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.
Here is your humble offering,
obliterated and broken in the mouth
of this abandoned church.
He has come back to stop the world
from turning itself inside out, and you love him, you do,
so you won't let him.
Tell him that you will never know any better. ~ Caitlyn Siehl

I tried to warn you,

But girls never listen.

Got your innocence insured?

'Cause it's 'bout to be stolen

Right out from under your nose.

Prepare to curl your toes.

I've got a one-track mind.

You've got a nice behind.

Chorus:

I had a good thing goin'

All numb in my shell,

Then you took me by surprise

And now I'm scared as hell.

I don't wanna feel for you,

I don't wanna feel.

If feeling means hurting,

Then I don't wanna be real.

You crank up my lust, girl,

You tame down my rage.

You let your inner vixen

Roam out of her cage.

The moment our lips met

I saw it in your eyes,

But you were seeing me,

too, I now realize.

Chorus

What do I want from you?

I want everything.

And I'm not gonna share -

This ain't a casual fling.

You can be my bad girl,

I'll even be your good boy.

How'd the tables get turned?

F*** it, I'll be your love toy. ~ Wendy Higgins

It is great to love life. Accept life as a precious gift from the hand of God and strive to make the most of it. ~ Wilferd Peterson

Another year passed on . The waves of time seemed long since to have swept away all trace of poor Mary Barton. But her husband still thought of her, although with a calm and quiet grief, in the silent watches of the night :And Mary would start from her hard-earned sleep,and think in her half dreamy, half awakened state, she saw her mother stand by her bed-side ,as she used to do 'in the days of long-ago'; with shaded candle and an expression of ineffable tenderness, while she looked on her sleeping child. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell

You'll never be the heavyweight champion of the world," he said, "but you should be able to duck anything Edward throws at you."
Theo wanted his turn, but John said it was too hot for more lessons. He looked up into the tree where Hannah sat swinging her feet, and smiled. "Maybe your sister will come down from her perch and offer us a nice cold glass of lemonade."
Hannah gave her hand to John and allowed him to help her. "Not that I need your assistance," she said. "I'm merely practicing my manners."
We watched John and Hannah walk away, still holding hands. "He's as bad as diphtheria," Theo muttered.
"What do you mean?"
"Diphtheria made you into a perfect gentleman," Theo said, "and John makes Hannah into a perfect lady. I'm sure I don't know which is worse--being sick or falling in love. ~ Mary Downing Hahn

And if there's one thing in this world I've ever known for sure, it's that this girl is gonna crush me like a small bug, leave me so fucking broken there'll be body bags beneath my eyes from nights I cried so hard the stars died. But I'm like, go ahead. I'm all yours. I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm, cause I'd rather be left for dead than left to wonder what thunder sounds like. ~ Andrea Gibson

I came up with a new reason
To write your name today
I plagiarized each letter
From a love note you wrote me.
The scent of ink was sacred to me
In that relapsed moment…
For a minute I could pretend
The paper reminded me of your skin;
I could pretend the glimmering ink
Was the moonlit lake
Of our summer night.
But the pretending crumpled with paper
And I threw us into the trash can
For the bridge between us is long burned
And it's time I accepted that. ~ Justin Wetch

As I wandered around the room, with Sachiko by my side, I began to think how much we need space in those we love, space enough to accommodate growth and possibility. Knowledge must leave room for mystery; intimacy, taken too far, was the death of imagination. Keeping some little distance from her was, I thought, a way of keeping an open space, a silence for the imagination to fill.
"At the same time that we are earnest to explore and learn all things," Thoreau had written, "we require that all things be mysterious and unexplainable. ~ Pico Iyer

Conviction brings a silent, indefinable beauty into faces made of the commonest human clay; the devout worshiper at any shrine reflects something of its golden glow, even as the glory of a noble love shines like a sort of light from a woman's face. ~ Honore De Balzac

Always re-invent yourself. Always try new things; new food, new hobbies, meet new people. That will keep your life from becoming stagnant and boring. And you will have a lot more fun! ~ Lisa Bedrick

I think living with the absence of someone we love is like living in front of a mountain from which a person - a speck in the distance, on some distance ridge - is perpetually waving. ~ Simon Van Booy

Exaggeration is for the timid, my dear Sophie, and I'm far from timid. But be assured of one thing.
When I take a bite out of you, and I will." His lips brushed over hers in a feathery caress. "I promise
you'll never forget my doing so. ~ Monica Burns

My father was a man of love. He always loved me to death. He worked hard in the fields, but my father never hit me. Never. I don't ever remember a really cross, unkind word from my father. ~ Johnny Cash

Your father doesn't give his devotion lightly or carelessly. When you are given a piece of someone like that, someone who doesn't naturally trust others, it's more special than when it comes from those who are capricious with their love. As with all things, the rarity make it all the more precious ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon

Perhaps that's because I do not remember a thing about the shooting. Not a single thing. The doctors and nurses offered complicated explanations for why I didn't recall the attack. They said the brain protects us from memories that are too painful to remember. Or, they said, my brain might have shut down as soon as I was injured. I love science, and I love nothing more than asking question upon question to figure out the way things work. But I don't need science to figure out why I don't remember the attack. I know why: God is kind to me. ~ Malala Yousafzai

What makes Pixar special is that we acknowledge we will always have problems, many of them hidden from our view; that we work hard to uncover these problems, even if doing so means making ourselves uncomfortable; and that, when we come across a problem, we marshal all of our energies to solve it. This, more than any elaborate party or turreted workstation, is why I love coming to work in the morning. It is what motivates me and gives me a definite sense of mission. ~ Ed Catmull

It's fitting that slave is from a group of words meaning "bonded," which is the same root word used in Titus 2:3 about women "addicted to much wine." In other words, as slaves to our neighbors, our cities, the people of the nations, we are addicted to them. We cannot get enough of them in our homes, in our lives. The more we love them, the more we want to love them. We are addicts for mission, bonded to people for the dream of the gospel in their lives. ~ Jen Hatmaker

How You Doing, Little Lucy?" His bright tone and mild expression indicates we're playing a game we almost never play. It's a game called How You Doing? and it basically starts off like we don't hate each other. We act like normal colleagues who don't want to swirl their hands in each other's blood. It's disturbing.

"Great, thanks, Big Josh. How You Doing?"

"Super. Gonna go get coffee. Can I get you some tea?" He has his heavy black mug in his hand. I hate his mug.

I look down; my hand is already holding my red polka-dot mug. He'd spit in anything he made me. Does he think I'm crazy? "I think I'll join you."

We march purposefully toward the kitchen with identical footfalls, left, right, left, right, like prosecutors walking toward the camera in the opening credits of Law & Order. It requires me to almost double my stride. Colleagues break off conversations and look at us with speculative expressions. Joshua and I look at each other and bare our teeth. Time to act civil. Like executives.

"Ah-ha-ha," we say to each other genially at some pretend joke. "Ah-ha-ha."

We sweep around a corner. Annabelle turns from the photocopier and almost drops her papers. "What's happening?"

Joshua and I nod at her and continue striding, unified in our endless game of one-upmanship. My short striped dress flaps from the g-force.

"Mommy and Daddy love you very much, kids," Joshua says quietly so only I can h ~ Sally Thorne

He knew as well as I did that you cannot release a girl from her promise to love a man. She either gets herself free or she is bound for life. ~ Philippa Gregory