Crates For Dogs Quotes & Sayings

Either way, I have no wish to disturb a man sleeping in a gutter; I assume until proved otherwise that he belongs there. — Robert A. Heinlein

I've always enjoyed writing, I graduated with a degree in English; I've done bits of journalism. — Michael York

Truly, only acting without thought of one's life is superior to valuing one's life. — Laozi

You look as if you're planning my untimely death."
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"You have a problem though - I'm your top assassin by far, and I don't work for you any more. — Eve Ocotillo

Australia has produced amazing costume designers that are unheralded. — Gillian Armstrong

I like music because it's the only invisible art form. — Sean Lennon

She lived upstairs in the farmhouse; guests and visitors occupied the B&B rooms downstairs. She kept crates tucked all over the house, in which herding dogs-border collies and shepherds-slept while waiting to work, exercise, or play.

These working dogs, I'd come to learn, led lives very different from my dogs'. Carolyn let them out several times a day to exercise and eliminate, but generally, they were out of crates only to train or herd sheep. While they were out, Carolyn tossed a cup of kibble into their crates for them to eat when they returned. I asked her once if she left the lights on for the dogs when she went out, and she looked at me curiously. "Why? They don't read...

Still, they were everywhere. If you bumped into a sofa it might growl or thump. Some of her crew were puppies; some were strange rescue dogs. — Jon Katz

We've spent too much on how to destroy and blow up things with the military and too little on our health care, and too little on education, and it goes on. — Eleanor Smeal

I told her about the best and the worst. The slow and sleepy places where weekdays rolled past like weekends and Mondays didn't matter. Battered shacks perched on cliffs overlooking the endless, rumpled sea. Afternoons spent waiting on the docks, swinging my legs off a pier until boats rolled in with crates full of oysters and crayfish still gasping. Pulling fishhooks out of my feet because I never wore shoes, playing with other kids whose names I never knew. Those were the unforgettable summers. There were outback towns where you couldn't see the roads for red dust, grids of streets with wandering dogs and children who ran wild and swam naked in creeks. I remembered climbing ancient trees that had a heartbeat if you pressed your ear to them. Boomboom-boomboom. Dreamy nights sleeping by the campfire and waking up covered in fine ash, as if I'd slept through a nuclear holocaust. We were wanderers, always with our faces to the sun. — Vikki Wakefield