Quotes about wolves

She stands and moves within the invisible pentacle of her own virginity. She is an unbroken egg: she is a sealed vessel she has inside her a magic space the entrance to which is shut tight with a plug of membrane she is a closed system she does not know how to shiver.

The brutalities of wolves are not for enjoyment and pleasure they are all just for the survival.

I don’t think women are made only for sex they can turn men into wolves and make them fight till the death.

The girl burst out laughing she knew she was nobody's meat.

When the wildish woman has an idea, the friend or lover will never say, "Well, I don't know . . . sounds really dumb [grandiose, undoable, expensive, etc.] to me." A right friend will never say that. They might say instead . . . "I don't know if I understand. Tell me how you see it. Tell me how it will work.

Wolves directly affect the entire ecosystem, not just moose populations, their main prey, because less moose equals more tree growth

There was really way too much hotness going on back there.

Dastien ran his fingertips along my jawline "Je suis desole, mon amour.

Wolves and Doves mate for life. I hope in the next life I am one of the two.

Beware of those who are always hungry, for they will feed you to the wolves just to get paid.

Wolves in shells are crueler than stray ones.

Can you handle it?" "Hell yeah." "I mean..." Tom glanced around the tavern where pack members filled nearly every chair at the wooden tables. The room was humming with conversation. He leaned forward. "Because of the ghosts." "That don't exist." "Right." "Yeah, I can handle it.

Cats never weep, she told herself, no more than wolves. It's just a stupid dream.

Reflection is a good reminder of the truth! You may turn your eyes away from the truths, but the reflections will remind them to you! And anything which describes a truth well is a reflection of that truth! Turn your eyes away from the Moon, then the lake will remind the Moon to you, the shadows of the wolves howling against the Moon will remind the truth to you, even in the eyes of a frog, you shall see the Moon! Thus, if you turn your face away from the truth, it will never work! Because the r

A vast silence reigned over the land. The land itself was a desolation, lifeless, without movement, so lone and cold that the spirit of it was not even that of sadness. There was a hint in it of laughter, but of laughter more terrible than any sadness-a laughter that was mirthless as the smile of the Sphinx, a laughter cold as the frost and partaking of the grimness of infallibility. It was the masterful and incommunicable wisdom of eternity laughing at the futility of life and the effort of lif

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

You're asking the cyborg fugitive and the wild animal to be the welcoming committee? That's adorable.

But he is not always alone. When the long winter nights come on and the wolves follow their meat into the lower valleys, he may be seen running at the head of the pack through the pale moonlight or glimmering borealis, leaping gigantic above his fellows, his great throat a-bellow as he sings a song of the younger world, which is the song of the pack.

The Lord God had created all animals, and had chosen out the wolf to be his dog.

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 t

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.

My father said the weakest camel draws the wolves.” “Mine told me to hide until the wolves go away,” Abban replied.

I knew he wouldn't come, but I howled anyway, and when I did, the other wolves would pass images of him to me of what he looked like: lithe, gray, yellow-eyed. I would pass back images of my own, of a wolf on the edge of the woods, silent and cautious, watching me. The images, clear as the slender-leaved trees in front of me, made finding him seem urgent, but I didn't know how to begin to look.

Fate is a woman, I said to them. In fact, she is three women. Young, like us, so that they will have the courage to be cruel, having no weight of memory to teach temperance. Young, but so old, older than any stone. Their hair is silver, but full and long. Their eyes are black. But when they are at their work they become dogs, wolves, for they are hounds of death, and also hounds of joy. They take the strands of life in their jaws, and sometimes they are careful with their jagged teeth, and somet

You are not evil, Fell. You have just been robbed of love. Of light.

An old man spoke to his grandson. "My child," he said. "Inside everyone there is a battle between two wolves. One is Evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, inferiority, lies, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, and truth." The boy thought for a moment. Then he asked, "Which wolf wins?" A moment of silence passed before the old man replied. And then he said, "The one you feed." - Native American Folk Tale

No one ever thinks about the guy who was raised by the guy who was raised by wolves.

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.

We are wolves, which are wild dogs, and this is our place in the city. We are small and our house is small on our small urban street. We can see the city and the train line and it's beautiful in its own dangerous way. Dangerous because it's shared and taken and fought for.That's the best way I can put it, and thinking about it, when I walk past the tiny houses on our street, I wonder about the stories inside them. I wonder hard, because houses must have walls and rooftops for a reason. My only q

Outside, the dogs whine over the wind. They sense the wolves - they sense the wild. It calls to them, like it calls to me, and I wonder sometimes if we are the only ones who hear it.

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...

itt was snowing as if you could hear wolves howling

Wolves, and stars, and snow: Those things made sense.

We both fell asleep wrapped up together with the wolves still lullaby-ing us in the background

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.

With the wolves around, your humbleness is your worst adversary.

Support Imagination. Read a book.

Throw me to the wolves &I'll return leading the pack

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.

We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be –the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer – which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself.

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.

Wolves are the witches of the animal world.

So she looked upon the wolves, who were dwindling in number, and back at the humans who no longer cared for their own, and combined their spirits. She took the loyal, protective, possessive natures of the wolf and took the intelligence, emotions, and love of the human and brought them together. She designed us to be a pack.

Of course, MIT was notable not just for its faculty but also for its students. And, facing such extremely bright kids as a rookie teacher was something like being thrown to the wolves.

Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs.

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 reas

They love me like a pack of wolves.Ernest

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

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.

Wolves are social. They need their pack.

Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long.

You’re a good man who happens to be a vampire. We aren’t human, but that doesn’t make us monsters.

One day a wolf bit a man and the man caught it. Magic or science, it's all the same. The only thing magical about it is that we can't explain it." ~Sam

Thane Ealdian prowls the earth once more. Shutter your houses. Bar your doors. Offer him gold and women to satisfy his cravings. A black dragon is like the very devil himself.

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.

Wolves fail to hide their integrity just like the way men fail to hide their own animality.

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

You should've mentioned you were bringing a beautiful woman. I would've combed my hair.

The wolf demands her mate. But the woman loathes the man.

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

Do they send all of you jaguars through some elitist asshole training course?

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

They wanted to stick her on a spit and roast her --- after doing some horrible things to her.

Do you realize that you gave me the best orgasm of my life and we haven't even kissed?

What do you want for her?" "Dragon bones." The leader's eyes narrowed even as his pupils turned to vertical slits. The contrasting actions was jarring to see. "That's impossible." Rory lifted a shoulder, casual indifference. "Nothing's impossible. I want them, you want this female. Find me dragon bones, you get her.

Are you naked?" he rasped out. Swallowing hard, she nodded.

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.

Just the way I like you," she said when he was completely naked.

Do you know how to use a pool cue?" Paul asked her. "To play pool or to fight?" she asked as Paul pulled the door open and Allan went in first. "Balls are my specialty.

Like I don't have anything better to do than think about you every minute you're gone?" "Every minute?" He smiled a little.

Gage sighed. "This team was a whole hell of a lot easier to run before any of us had ever heard about The One. You know that, right?" Maybe." Becker grinned. "But it wasn't nearly as interesting.

You're playing dirty," she whispered. "Did you want me any other way?

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.

His lazy grin incinerated the rest of my heart.

The idea in our culture of body solely as sculpture is wrong. Body is not marble. That is not its purpose. Its purpose is to protect, contain, support and fire the spirit and soul within it, to be a repository for memory, to fill us with feeling - that is the supreme psychic nourishment. It is to lift us and propel us, to fill us with feeling to prove that we exist, that we are here, to give us grounding, heft, weight. It is wrong to think of it as a place we leave in order to soar to the spirit

When he had eaten, Mr. Lecky lay down on his cot, though he did not expect to sleep. The four lanterns continued to shed their thin floods of light. Against the dark, this illumination set the varied, ill-matched shapes of his assembled defenses. Studying the odd wall, in spirit unquiet, Mr. Lecky was reminded of his childhood - not in any detail of actual reminiscence, but more deeply, less coherently. He seemed to recall himself, unreally small and young, in concealment under a table. A table

Finally, she said: “I’m lonely” — it’s weird but you tell the wolves things, sometimes. You can’t help it, all these old wounds come open and suddenly you’re confessing to a wolf who never says anything back. She said: “I’m lonely,” and they ate her in the street.

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.

Her caramel skin and curly beach sand hair spreads in wavy chops like the choppy storm waves on the ocean. Her fluffy rose colored lips glisten with eyes emerald green and almond shaped set deep into her face and yet when she looks at you with those same deep set eyes, it feels like they jump out, speaking to you.

I could have screamed, but I didn't. I could have fought, but I didn't. I just lay there and let it happen, wathcing the winter-white sky go gray above me. One wolf prodded his nose into my hand and agianst my cheek, casting a shadow along my face. His yellow eyes looked into mine as the other wolves moved me this way and that. I held onto those eyes for as long as I could. Yellow. And, up close, flecked brillantly with every shade of gold and hazel. I didn't want him to look away, and he didn't

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.

What's that supposed to mean? A wolf's head on a stick. Big wolf barbecue tonight? Bring your own wolf?

People who entered the Courtyard without an invitation were just plain crazy! Wolves were big and scary and so fluffy, how could anyone resist hugging one just to feel all that fur?“Ignore the fluffy,” she muttered. “Remember the part about big and scary.

You weren't afraid of me when I was Wolf," he said. "Why are you afraid of Nathan?""He's got big feet!""What?"An insulted-sounding arrroooo came from the other side of the door, a reminder that Wolves also had big ears.

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.

The wolves knew when it was time to stop looking for what they'd lost, to focus instead on what was yet to come.

The deer scent the wolves and stand silent and watchful. They turn and leap off like ballerinas, their plume-like tails raised in alarm.

A lamb among wolves!

A sheep in wolves clothing!

The wild is where you find it, not in some distant world relegated to a nostalgic past or an idealized future; its presence is not black or white, bad or good, corrupted or innocent... We are of that nature, not apart from it. We survive because of it, not instead of it.

Wolves and women wed for life.

Wolves and women are relational by nature, inquiring, possessed of great endurance and strength. They are deeply intuitive, intensely concerned with their young, their mate, and their pack. They are experienced in adapting to constantly changing circumstances; they are fiercely stalwart and very brave.

for frail but surprisingly strong fairies who had lost their way above groundfor burned mermaids and sick vampire girlsfor wild wolfish women with sharp teeth and leaves in their hair

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.

She slept with wolves without fear, for the wolves knew a lion was among them.

Fear isn't so difficult to understand. After all, weren't we all frightened as children? Nothing has changed since Little Red Riding Hood faced the big bad wolf. What frightens us today is exactly the same sort of thing that frightened us yesterday. It's just a different wolf. This fright complex is rooted in every individual.

Dreams are like the old stories where wolves are seekers always running, and women carry fire in their bare hands and light the dark paths before them.Old stories hold that the birds will fly all the miles of the world to tell your secrets to the rising moon, and men will walk over oceans of ice to find one truth.

Are you scared of going in to see the raghnaid [the council]?” asked a gray female pup. “Are you cag mag [crazy]? If a bear was his Milk Giver, you think he’s scared of the raghnaid?

Some people are not meant to live together, for they will destroy one another and annihilate themselves. Wolves and sheep cannot be put in the same place, for after eating the sheep, the wolves will starve to death.