Gladys Taber Quotes - Page 2

April is a promise of what's to come.

Old houses, I thought, do not belong to people ever, not really, people belong to them.

I cannot imagine a cat in an Obedience ring, running around in the hot sun and doing things on command. For it would not make sense. Whereas a dog is tolerant of your not making sense and only wants to fix things so you are happy.

November wind has a sound different from any other. It is easy to imagine the cave of the winds in some mythical Northland where the winds are born and the gods send them out to conquer the quiet air.

After all, catching something is purely a by-product of our fishing. It is the act of fishing that wipes away all grief, lightens all worry, dissolves fear and anxiety.

Pride may go before a fall, but jealousy goes before destruction.

Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.

There must be hundreds of unsung heroes and heroines who first tasted strange things growing - and think of the man who first ate a lobster. This staggers the imagination. I salute him every time I take my nutcracker in hand and move the melted-butter pipkin closer.

Americans tend to believe they can do anything with or without any training or experience.

When Father smiled, it was like the sun coming out, and spring and summer in your heart.

Whoever decided that comic valentines were a good idea should have been sent away to think it over.

Faith is a curious thing. It must be renewed; it has its own spring.

The real evidence of growing older is that things level off in importance.

There is a kind of immortality in every garden.

My own recipe for world peace is a bit of land for everyone.

the tentacles of today reach out like an octopus to swallow yesterday.

A house with no fireplace is a house without a heart.

My general attitude toward life when I first get up is of deep suspicion, verging on hatred. ... I am simply basted together until after breakfast.

I love both the way a dog looks up to me and a cat condescends to me.

The creative instincts, the love force must be nourished with every beat of our hearts until they overbalance the destructive instincts.

Christmas is a bridge. We need bridges as the river of time flows past.

June in New England is like a lover's dream made tangible.

Cat lovers know that every cat is remarkable.

Most cats feel that bird-catching is their duty; the instinct goes back to prehistoric times. Amber keeps in practice by chasing moths.

Christmas is a kindling of new fires.