This Is Refering To Her Dog Quotes

Now, she could't help but think he was just a big version of a jealous boy friend. ~ Nicholas Sparks

This is the man who thinks too much, who stands back from his life and never lives it. He is caught in a web of pros and cons about his decisions and lost in a labyrinth of reflective meanderings from which he cannot extricate himself. He is afraid to live, to 'leap into battle.' He can only sit on his rock and think. The years pass. He wonders where the time has gone. And he ends by regretting a life of sterility. He is a voyeur, an armchair adventurer. In the world of academia, he is a hairsplitter. In the fear of making the wrong decision, he makes none. In his fear of living, he also cannot participate in the joy and pleasure that other people experience in their lived lives. If he is withholding from others, and not sharing what he knows, he eventually feels isolated and lonely. To the extent that he has hurt others with his knowledge and technology - in whatever field and in whatever way - by cutting himself off from living relatedness with other human beings, he has cut off his own soul." Refering the the dark magician energy. ~ Robert L. Moore

Wickedly Dangerous translates a terrifying figure from folklore , the Baba Yaga, into the smart, resourceful, motorcycle-riding Barbara Yager, who travels with her dragon-disguised-as-a-dog best friend, righting wrongs and helping those in need. But when she stumbles into a town whose children are vanishing, and meets the haunted young sheriff trying to save them, what was a job becomes very personal. This is urban fantasy at its best, with all the magic and mayhem tied together with very human emotions, even when the characters aren't quite human. ~ Alex Bledsoe

According to the Dog Lady, if you ever wanted to know what a person was like, all you had to do was peek into their living room through a window or an open door, A person's home tells you a lot about who they are, I'd overheard her telling Massi once, Even if you can't see their faces. ~ Tanaz Bhathena

I told them he'd be able to get you to go out." Rianne folded her winnings and tucked the bills into her blazer pocket. "Look at him."
"He's right here, Ri," Carla murmured, shooting Keenan an apologetic look.
"We've tried to teach her manners, but ... " She shrugged. "It's like housebreaking a dog. If we'd had her when she was a puppy, maybe."
Rianne smacked her on the arm, but she was grinning. "Woof, woof. ~ Melissa Marr

I KNEW IT WAS OVER

when tonight you couldn't make the phone ring
when you used to make the sun rise
when trees used to throw themselves
in front of you
to be paper for love letters
that was how i knew i had to do it

swaddle the kids we never had
against january's cold slice
bundle them in winter
clothes they never needed
so i could drop them off at my mom's
even though she lives on the other side of the country
and at this late west coast hour is
assuredly east coast sleeping
peacefully

her house was lit like a candle
the way homes should be
warm and golden
and home
and the kids ran in
and jumped at the bichon frise
named lucky
that she never had
they hugged the dog
it wriggled
and the kids were happy
yours and mine
the ones we never had
and my mom was

grand maternal, which is to say, with style
that only comes when you've seen
enough to know grace

like when to pretend it's christmas or
a birthday so
she lit her voice with tiny
lights and pretended
she didn't see me crying

as i drove away
to the hotel connected to the bar
where i ordered the cheapest whisky they had

just because it shares your first name
because they don't make a whisky
called baby
and i only thought what i got
was what
i ordered

i ~ Daphne Gottlieb

And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window - remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up - and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven? ~ John Rechy

Once upon a time, there was Candy and Dan. Things were very hot that year. All the wax was melting in the trees. He would climb balconies, climb everywhere, do anything for her, oh Danny boy. Thousands of birds, the tiniest birds, adorned her hair. Everything was gold. One night the bed caught fire. He was handsome and a very good criminal. We lived on sunlight and chocolate bars. It was the afternoon of extravagant delight. Danny the daredevil. Candy went missing. The days last rays of sunshine cruise like sharks. I want to try it your way this time. You came into my life really fast and I liked it. We squelched in the mud of our joy. I was wet-thighed with surrender. Then there was a gap in things and the whole earth tilted. This is the business. This, is what we're after. With you inside me comes the hatch of death. And perhaps I'll simply never sleep again. The monster in the pool. We are a proper family now with cats and chickens and runner beans. Everywhere I looked. And sometimes I hate you. Friday -- I didn't mean that, mother of the blueness. Angel of the storm. Remember me in my opaqueness. You pointed at the sky, that one called Sirius or dog star, but on here on earth. Fly away sun. Ha ha fucking ha you are so funny Dan. A vase of flowers by the bed. My bare blue knees at dawn. These ruffled sheets and you are gone and I am going to. I broke your head on the back of the bed but the baby he died in the morning. I gave him a name. His name was Thomas. Poor little go ~ Luke Davies

Before Elfrida Phipps left London for good and moved to the country, she made a trip to Battersea Dogs' Home, and returned with a canine companion. It took a good, and heart-rending, half hour of searching, but as soon as she saw him, sitting very close to the bars of his kennel and gazing up at her with dark and melting eyes, she knew he was the one. She did not want a large animal, nor did she relish the idea of a yapping lap dog. This one was exactly the right size. Dog size. ~ Rosamunde Pilcher

Brian Doyle about the Irish custom of "taking to the bed."

He says "In Irish culture, taking to the bed with a gray heart is not considered especially odd. People did and do it for understandable reasons - ill health, or the black dog, or, most horrifyingly, to die during An Gorta Mor, the great hunger, when whole families took to their beds to slowly starve…And in our time: I know a woman who took to her bed for a week after September eleventh, and people who have taken to their beds for days on end to recover from shattered love affairs, the death of a child, a physical injury that heals far faster than the psychic wound gaping under it. I've done it myself twice, once as a youth and once as a man, to think through a troubled time in my marriage. Something about the rectangularity of the bed, perhaps, or supinity, or silence, or timelessness; for when you are in bed but not asleep there is no time, as lovers and insomniacs know.

Yet, anxious, heartsick, we take to the bed, saddled by despair and dissonance and disease, riddled by muddledness and madness, rattled by malaise and misadventure, and in the ancient culture of my forbears this was not so unusual….For from the bed we came and to it we shall return, and our nightly voyages there are nutritious and restorative, and we have taken to our beds for a thousand other reasons, loved and argued and eater and seethed there, and sang and sobbed and suckled, and burned with fevers and visions and lust, a ~ Brian Doyle

Many of the silliest ambiguities in the Internet memes come from newspaper headlines and magazine tag lines precisely because they have been stripped of all punctuation. Two of my favorites are MAN EATING PIRANHA MISTAKENLY SOLD AS PET FISH and RACHAEL RAY FINDS INSPIRATION IN COOKING HER FAMILY AND HER DOG. The first is missing the hyphen that bolts together the pieces of the compound word that was supposed to remind readers of the problem with piranhas, man-eating. The second is missing the commas that delimit the phrases making up the list of inspirations: cooking, her family, and her dog. ~ Steven Pinker

Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To get her dear dog a bone.
Though the cupboard was bare,
When she focused elsewhere
Her heart overflowed with fun! ~ Kristen McKee

Ree sat chilled inside her squat tent. To occupy her mind, she decided to name all the Miltons: Thump, Blond, Catfish, Spider, Whoop, Rooster, Scrap ... Lefty, Dog, Punch, Pinkeye, Momsy ... Cotton, Hog-jaw, Ten Penny, Peashot ... ~ Daniel Woodrell

The Lady Amalthea beckoned, and the cat wriggled all over, like a dog, but he would not come near ... She was offering her open palm to the crook-eared cat, but he stayed where he was, shivering with the desire to go to her" ... [later, Molly asked the cat] "Why were you afraid to let her touch you? I saw you. You were afraid of her."
"If she had touched me," he said very softly, "I would have been hers and not my own, not ever again. I wanted her to touch me but I could not let her. No cat will ... The price is more than a cat can pay. ~ Peter S. Beagle

I dispelled my invisibility for a few seconds in his full view, a finger resting provocatively on my lower lip, giving him a come-hither look under a streetlight. His jaw and the bottle of Żubrówka dropped at the same time. It shattered, drawing his eyes to the sidewalk, and I took the opportunity afforded by his distraction to disappear again.

"That was mean," Oberon said, watching the man look wildly around for me and pawing at his eyes as if to clear them.

Why? I asked. I've done him no harm.

"Yes, you have. You will haunt him for the rest of his life. I know from experience."

You're haunted by someone flashing you on a street corner?

"No. It was a dog park. Atticus and I were just arriving and she was leaving."

Oh, here we go.

"She was so fit and her coat was tightly curled and she had a perfect pouf on the end of her tail like a tennis ball. I saw her for maybe five seconds, until she hopped into a Honda and her human drove her away. And now I can't see a Honda without seeing her."

But that's a good thing, isn't it? Kind of romantic? A vision of perfection you can treasure forever, unspoiled by reality.

"Well, I don't know. In reality I'd like to try spoiling her, if she was in the mood."

Look, Oberon, that man is lonely. He's too skinny and sweaty, and I'm willing to bet you five cows that he's socially awkward or he wouldn't be staggering drunk at this hour. Bu ~ Kevin Hearne

One thing about being a painter is that if you have a dog you are naturally going to spend a lot of time with him or her. It has always amazed me the closeness of that relationship even though a word was never spoken, intellect not any part of it. ~ Ken Gillespie

The touch of her hand underneath the head of Mrs. Copperfield was very light - in fact, so light that Mrs. Copperfield feared that she would be left alone from one minute to the next. She looked up. The sky was packed with gray clouds. She wanted to say something to Pacifica, but she did not dare to turn her head.
Pacifica swam a little farther inland. Suddenly she stood up and placed both her hand firmly in the small of Mrs. Copperfield's back. Mrs. Copperfield felt happy and sick at once. She turned her face and in so doing she brushed Pacifica's heavy stomach with her cheek. She held on hard to Pacifica's thigh with the strength of years of sorrow and frustration in her hand.
'Don't leave me,' she called out.
At this moment Mrs. Copperfield was strongly reminded of a dream that had recurred often during her life. She was being chased up a short hill by a dog. At the top of the hill here stood a few pine trees and a mannequin about eight feet high. She approached the mannequin and discovered her to be fashioned out of flesh, but without life. Her dress was of black velvet, and tapered to a very narrow width at the hem. Mrs. Copperfield wrapped one of the mannequin's arms tightly around her own waist. She was startled by the thickness of the arm and very pleased. The mannequin's other arm she ben upward from the elbow with her free hand. Then the mannequin began to sway backwards and forwards. Mrs. Copperfield clung all the more tightly to the mannequin and t ~ Jane Bowles

But will anyone again look at that tree, read that poem, love a dog in quite my way? I am a particular and, despite the commonness of all people, a unique person in the way I perceive and think and appreciate, and I am sad that this particularity shall before too long be gone. This is not arrogance; it is the simple truth, known to anyone who has loved a person dead in the fullness of her life: what we miss is the particularity, that unique voice. [pp. 184-185] ~ Carolyn G. Heilbrun

Her gaze wavered towards one of the books on the sales counter beside the register, a hardcover copy of Shakespeare's Hamlet with many of the pages dog-eared and stained with coffee and tea. The store owner caught her looking at it and slid it across the counter towards her. "You ever read Hamlet?" he questioned.

"I tried to when I was in high school," said Mandy, picking up the book and flipping it over to read the back. "I mean, it's expected that everyone should like Shakespeare's books and plays, but I just…." her words faltered when she noticed him laughing to himself. "What's so funny, Sir?" she added, slightly offended.

"…Oh, I'm not laughing at you, just with you," said the store owner. "Most people who say they love Shakespeare only pretend to love his work. You're honest Ma'am, that's all. You see, the reason you and so many others are put-off by reading Shakespeare is because reading his words on paper, and seeing his words in action, in a play as they were meant to be seen, are two separate things… and if you can find a way to relate his plays to yourself, you'll enjoy them so much more because you'll feel connected to them. Take Hamlet for example – Hamlet himself is grieving over a loss in his life, and everyone is telling him to move on but no matter how hard he tries to, in the end all he can do is to get even with the ones who betrayed him."

"…Wow, when you put it that way… sure, I think I'll buy a copy just to try reading, wh ~ Rebecca McNutt

The professor was looking at Theodosia; he knew with resigned amusement that he was about to become the owner of the little dog. She wasn't going to ask, but the expression on her face was eloquent. ~ Betty Neels

I wonder if you could do me a favor," he said, angling his body away from Jade. From the corner of his eye, he saw her tip her head watchfully.
"What's that?" said Samara with a frown.
"There's a park across town that perfect for walking dogs. I love to go there on Sunday afternoons but, well, as it happens, I don't have a dog."
A slow smile spread across Samara's face.
"You want to borrow Bob."
"I understand it's a lot to ask. Dogs being as precious as they are and all. I know Jade could never part with Bob, even for a little while." then, he put his finger to his chin, as if the idea had just occurred to him. "You could join me if you wanted to. I guess. ~ Roxanne Snopek

As he walked out into the North Carolina sunshine, Lola's hand in his, a smile curved one corner of his lips.
Not so long ago, he'd stood on the burned-out bridge of the Dora Mae, thinking himself cursed with a beautiful underwear model and her sissy little dog. He'd always believed Lola Carlyle would be the death of him.
"We never did get around to watching Pride and Prejudice," she said, a teasing glint in her beautiful eyes.
Yeah, she would most definitely be the death of him, but what a way to go. ~ Rachel Gibson

Before I got Madeline, I used to see dog people who were so obsessed, and I'd think, Oh, that's so sad. But now, here I am, talking about her all the time. I even dress her up in little outfits; I'm madly in love with her. ~ Kristin Chenoweth

The wrinkled man in the wheelchair with the legs wrapped, the girl with her face punctured deep with the teeth marks of a dog, the mess of the world, and I see - this, all this, is what the French call d'un beau affreux, what the Germans call hubsch-hasslich - the ugly-beautiful. That which is perceived as ugly transfigures into beautiful. What the postimpressionist painter Paul Gauguin expressed as 'Le laid peut etre beau' - The ugly can be beautiful. The dark can give birth to life; suffering can deliver grace. ~ Ann Voskamp

When we are needy Christ does His best work, but be warned. Someone, maybe even some well-meaning soul, is going to tell you, "Don't worry. God will never give you more than you can handle."
I double-dog-dare you to find that in the scriptures. The closest you can come is found in 1 Corinthians 10:13: "There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it."
This talks about an escape from temptation; it does not say that you will not be faced with more than you can handle. The mother whose baby is born and dies, the father who loses his eyesight in a construction accident and can no longer provide for his family, the child who hurries home from school every day hoping that his mother hasn't yet succumbed to the cancer that he sees ravish her body day by day . . . all of these souls have more than they can handle - on their own.
But with Christ as their companion on the journey through life - and only with Christ - all things are possible. Without Him, we fail no matter how far we manage on our own. We can never cross over without Christ and His all-access Atonement. ~ Toni Sorenson

Tomas led a young woman by the hand and walked up into the foothills. Millian, the miner from Rosario, had introduced her to the patron, already buying points for himself. He was no fool. And the girl, no fool either, lifted her skirts for Tomas as he knelt before her, licking his way up her thighs -brown and sweet as candy, at the same time, tart and salty, musky, silken and cold in the warm air, refreshing as the sorbet he licked in Culiacan back when he was a student. She was amazed that this bit of her body could the great master to his knees before her. She was perhaps the most beautiful girl on that whole plain, but he did not her name and felt no need to ask. He pressed his face to her underwear, redolent with the burning scent of her, and he pulled the cotton down, over the bright points of her hips , the shadowy curve of her belly, until the fog of dark hair came into his sight, soft in the moonlight, tickling his face as he bent down to her again. He pressed his lips on the mound of her, breathing her in, tasting her like a dog, as her skirts fell over his head and her fingers pulled his head tighter to her, her legs moving apart in the dark, her beauty falling around him, his greatest gift to him, this flavor, this smell, her scent. ~ Luis Alberto Urrea

He was an Afghan Hound name Kabul. Since him I have had other Afghan Hounds ... Perhaps I am looking for his ghost. He is the only one that I sometimes think about. Often, if he comes in to my mind when I am working, it alters what I do. The nose on the face I am drawing gets longer and sharper. The hair of the woman I am sketching gets longer and fluffy, resting against her cheeks like his ears rested against his head. ~ Pablo Picasso

Then she smiled as if the woman had already helped her. If there was one thing Blue had learned while being a waitress and dog walker and Maura Sargent's daughter, it was that people generally became the kind of person you expected them to be. ~ Maggie Stiefvater

For a moment, I was perfectly relaxed, and I began enjoying the sight of this beautifully candlelit room full of well-dressed people. Then Mr. Merchant made a grab for my décolletage from behind, and I almost spilled the punch.
"One of those dear, pretty little roses slipped out of place," he claimed, with an insinuating grin. I stared at him, baffled. Giordano hadn't prepared me for a situation like this, so I didn't know the proper etiquette for dealing with Rococo gropers. I looked at Gideon for help, but he was so deep in conversation with the young widow that he didn't even notice. If we'd been in my own century, I'd have told Mr. Merchant to keep his dirty paws to himself or I'd hit back, whether or not any little roses had really slipped. But in the circumstances, I felt that his reaction was rather - discourteous. So I smiled at him and said, "Oh, thank you, how kind. I never noticed."
Mr. Merchant bowed. "Always glad to be of service, ma'am." The barefaced cheek of it! But in times when woman had no vote, I suppose it wasn't surprising if they didn't get any other kind of respect either.
The talking and laughter gradually died away as Miss Fairfax, a thin-nosed lady wearing a reed-green dress, went over to the pianoforte, arranged her skirts, and placed her hands on the keys. In fact, she didn't play badly. It was her singing that was rather disturbing. It was incredibly . . . well, high-pitched. A tiny bit higher, and you'd have thought she was a dog ~ Kerstin Gier

Into the main part of the store. Off to get Kendal, I mouthed to Celine, and she nodded. I stepped out into the September afternoon. Behind me, Eighty-ninth Street stretched several blocks to Riverside Park, a favorite place of mine and Kendal's. Just ahead the intersection at Broadway sparkled with a steady stream of cars and our neighboring retailers' windows. A man walking his dog nodded a wordless hello, and a mom with a baby in a stroller bent to pop a pacifier back into her unhappy child's mouth. A delivery truck double-parked and the car behind it honked its disproval. The air held only a hint that summer was waning. September used to be my favorite month. I liked the way it sweetly bade the summer pastels away and showered the Yard's shelves with auburn, mocha, and every shade of red. September brought in the serious quilters, those who loved spending ~ Susan Meissner

My stupidity gave its blessing to succouring nature, on her knees before God.
What I am (my drunken laughter and happiness) is nonetheless at stake, handed over to chance, thrown out into the night, chased away like a dog.
The wind of truth responded like a slap to piety's extended cheek.
The heart is human to the extent that it rebels (this means: to be a man is 'not to bow down before the law').
A poet doesn't justify - he doesn't accept - nature completely. True poetry is outside laws. But poetry ultimately accepts poetry.
When to accept poetry changes it into its opposite (it becomes the mediator of an acceptance!) I hold back the leap in which I would exceed the universe, I justify the given world, I content myself with it ~ Georges Bataille

When he finally broke off the kiss and moved his lips to her neck, then her breast again, sucking her nipples back to hard peaks, Catherine broke from her trance.
"No. I really must go. We haven't time to do this again." She pushed against his
restraining hands and wiggled beneath his body. "Let me up now."
He pulled away from her neck and looked up, his eyes as poignant as a spoken plea.
Her heart wrenched and she wished she could spend the rest of the day with him, making love in their secret nest in the loft.
She sighed. "Don't give me puppy dog eyes. I've got to go. ~ Bonnie Dee

I made you something to eat if you're hungry."
Leigh peered at the steaming pile on the plate on the tray, then asked uncertainly. "What is it?"
"Prime cuts in gravy."
"Prime cuts in gravy?" she echoed slowly. "Did you cook it?"
"I opened the can and heated it up in the microwave for one minute. Someone named Alpo cooked it."
Leigh stiffened, her head shooting up, eyes wide with disbelief. "Alpo?"
He shrugged. "That's what the can said."
Leigh shook her head with bewilderment. "You can use a microwave, but not a phone, and don't know that Alpo isn't the chef, but the brand name for dog food?" There was something seriously wrong here. ~ Lynsay Sands

Dogs, lives are short, too short, but you know that going in. You know the pain is coming, you're going to lose a dog, and there's going to be great anguish, so you live fully in the moment with her, never fail to share her joy or delight in her innocence, because you can't support the illusion that a dog can be your lifelong companion. There's such beauty in the hard honesty of that, in accepting and giving love while always aware that it comes with an unbearable price. Maybe loving dogs is a way we do penance for all the other illusions we allow ourselves and the mistakes we make because of those illusions. ~ Dean Koontz

They were about the same age, but thirty-five years might have been forty-five if Mamma's face had been a place for measuring time, while Coletta's might have been twenty-five. You saw four children in Mamma's face, you even saw Hugo there; you saw centuries of worry, ages of toil, aeons of work and distress. There was no record of children upon the face of Coletta Drigo, nor of worry, nor of distress; instead you saw a rare nuance of youth to maturity; you saw excitement; you saw great cities, happy times, the whole wonderful world; and, above all, her beauty, black hair, black eyes, the dark whitish skin. You were sure that if she had a pet it wasn't a dog but a cat, a Siamese cat. ~ John Fante

A moan escaped her lips when he brushed the back of his knuckles up her neck before gently cupping her face.
"I never run from a challenge," Sadie murmured. She pressed her breasts against him, the soft mounds of flesh searing against him.
Killian felt like he was in the middle of a game of double dog dare
and it was a surefire bet he was going to lose. Sadie signed, a seductive sounds that made his cock twitch.
Oh yeah. Dead wolf walking. ~ Sara Humphreys

Yet I was a fool to fancy for a moment that she valued Edgar Linton's attachment more than mine
If he love with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years, as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have; the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough, as her whole affection be monopolized by him
Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse
It is not in him to be loved like me, how can she love in him what he has not? ~ Emily Bronte

...but it does involve a woman. A beautiful, lying, conniving, voluptuous, sexy as hell, witch of a woman, one who has in an inconceivably short amount of time wormed her way so deeply into my very soul - yes, soul, try though you do to convince yourselves that I have none - and not all the dog-desperate clawing can wrench my being free of her. All night long I dominated her body, only to find myself conquered by her. I battled and battered at her, bathed my seed upon her thighs, drew my breaths from between her breasts and yet I drowned. I bound her, only to find myself thoroughly ensnared. My life is gone! Everything I have worked for…everything that I am has, for the sake of pride, boredom, a fine pair of tits and an ass unparalleled by any other known to man - indeed, on the face of this whole miserable planet! - has been utterly destroyed."

"Women," Jackson commiserated.

"You have no idea. I'm doomed. ~ Penny Alley

But everyone likes dogs," Cassandra protested.
"I don't dislike dogs. I just don't want one in my house."
"Our house." She braced her elbows on the table and massaged her temples. "I've always had dogs. Pandora and I couldn't have survived our childhood without Napoleon and Josephine. If cleanliness is what worries you, I'll make certain the dog is bathed often, and accidents will be disposed of right away."
That drew a grimace from him. "I don't want there to be accidents in the first place. Besides, you'll have more than enough to keep you busy- you won't have time for a pet."
"I need a dog."
Tom held the propelling pencil between his first and second fingers, and flipped it back and forth to make the ends tap on the table. "Let's look at this logically- you don't really need a dog. You're not a shepherd or a rat catcher. Household dogs serve no useful purpose."
"They fetch things," Cassandra pointed out.
"You'll have an entire staff of servants to fetch anything you want."
"I want a companion who'll go on walks with me, and sit on my lap while I pet him."
"You'll have me for that."
Cassandra pointed to the contract. "Dog," she insisted. "I'm afraid it's nonnegotiable. ~ Lisa Kleypas

What was it, she wondered, this need to brandish his shiny new metropolitan life at her? As soon as she'd met him at the arrivals gate on his return from Thailand, lithe and brown and shaven-headed, she knew that there was no chance of a relationship between them. Too much had happened to him, too little had happened to her. Even so this would be the third girlfriend, lover, whatever, that she had met in the last nine months, Dexter presenting them up to her like a dog with a fat pigeon in his mouth. Was it some kind of some sick revenge for something? Because she got a better degree than him? Didn't he know what this was doing to her, sat at table nine with their groins jammed in each other's faces? ~ David Nicholls

Lance rolled his eyes. "I'm already sorrier than you could possibly imagine. Now you promise me you won't interfere, or mention it to anyone, or poke your nose in, or follow Mr. Traynor along the street when he comes into town, ... "
Lily snorted. "As if I would tell anyone! You think I want it spread around that my son's into puppy play?"
Lance felt his temper supernova. Yes, that was really quite an interesting sensation, the way the cells inside his chest spontaneously burst into flame. "I AM NOT INTO PUPPY PLAY! AND HOW DO YOU EVEN KNOW THAT TERM?"
Lily waved her hand as if he was being silly. "Please. Like I was born fifty years old."
"I want to be stricken dead. Right now," Lance groaned and hid his face.
"Oh, all right. Fine! You're doing some reconnaissance in your dog form, and that's all it is, and it's none of my business, and I've always been a virgin. You and your brothers and sister were all conceived by supernatural means. Happy? ~ Eli Easton

People know us best for our entrepreneurial success as the founders of Three Dog Bakery; what they don't know is that we owe it all to a gigantic deaf dog named Gracie. But even though Gracie sowed the seeds of our success, this isn't a book about "making it." This is the story of a dog who was born with the cards stacked against her, but whose passionate, joyful nature helped her turn what could have been a dog's life into a victory of the canine spirit - and, in the process, save two guys who thought they were saving her. ~ Dan Dye

This assumption that she need look for no more devotion now that her beauty had passed proceeded from the fact that she had never realized any love save love as passion. Such love, though it expends itself in generosity and thoughtfulness, though it give birth to visions and to great poetry, remains among the sharpest expressions of self-interest. Not until it has passed through a long servitude, through its own self-hatred, through mockery, through great doubts, can it take its place among the loyalties. Many who have spent a lifetime in it can tell us less of love than the child that lost a dog yesterday. ~ Thornton Wilder

The house is silent now and she feels like a stranger here. "This life was never ours," she whispers to the dog, who has been following her from room to room, and Luli wags her tail and stares at Miranda with wet brown eyes. "We were only ever borrowing it. ~ Emily St. John Mandel