Pelt Quotes & Sayings

Outside the rain began to pour in sheets, and the wind howled . Giant pieces of hail began to pelt the building - banging off the skylights so hard that Simpson worried the glass might shatter. Then, as it had earlier in the day, the wind briefly let up. It was then Simpson heard a sound she had dreaded - a sound she couldn't believe she was actually hearing. It was 2: 40 P.M. and the tornado sirens in Moore started to wail. — Holly Bailey

Your brother's car has been found," he told Jay Marriot. "It's on a little road almost directly across from Sookie's driveway." ... Eric had told me that that little road, a dirt track leading back to a deer camp, was where Debbie Pelt had hidden her car when she'd come to kill me. Might as well put up a sign: PARKING FOR SOOKIE STACKHOUSE NIGHTTIME ATTACKS. — Charlaine Harris

Without Bardawulf's pelt about me I felt naked before the crowds, yet I knew what I would invite if folk saw me wearing it. The whispers would become shouts, the shouts accusations, and finally cries of terror, and even if they did not whip me at the post or burn me for my gramarye, the fear would swell within their minds. Their thoughts would focus on naught but me. And I would find myself at the mercy of an onslaught of geiste from which even Lynae would be unable to defend me. — Hazel Butler

My warhorse has new shoes" - Thomas Van Pelt — Donny Swords

The thing i found offensive, the thing i hated about mohican-mountain-makers, gill-netters, poachers, whalehunters, strip-miners, herbicide-spewers, dam-erectors, nuclear-reactor-builders or anyone who lusted after flesh, meat, mineral, tree, pelt and dollar - including, first and foremost, myself - was the smug ingratitude, the attitude that assumed the world and its creatures owed us everything we could catch, shoot, tear out, alter, plunder, devour ... and we owed the world nothing in return. — David James Duncan

He was covered with a healthy pelt that had some men drooling and wanting him to be their leather daddy. He just shook his head at them. He didn't do that sort of shit. If you wanted someone to boss you around and tell you what to do, then go visit your parents." - Lon Taylor — Renae Kaye

To pursue truth with such astonishing lack of consideration for other people's feelings, to rend the think veils of civilisation so wantonly, so brutally, was to her so horrible an outrage of human decency that, without replying, dazed and blinded, she bend her head as if to let her pelt f jagged hail, the drench of dirty water, bespatter her unrebuked. — Virginia Woolf

Many of our tribe went to the cliff each night to count the number killed during the day. They counted the dead otter and thought of the beads and other things that each pelt meant. But I never went to the cove and whenever I saw the hunters with their long spears skimming over the water, I was angry, for these animals were my friends. It was fun to see them playing or sunning themselves among the kelp. It more fun than the thought of beads to wear around my neck. — Scott O'Dell

The poem is like a monster, against which the critic does battle. There is only one way to conquer the monster: you must eat it, bones, blood, skin, pelt, and gristle. And even then the monster is not dead, for it lives in you, is assimilated into you, and you are different and somewhat monstrous yourself for having eaten it. — Unknown

The giant beech next door intends to shiver off every hair of its pelt. — Barbara Kingsolver

Lucy's polls were sometimes kind of violent. — Charles M. Schulz

Marriage is rarely bliss But, surely it would be worse As particles to pelt At thousands of miles per sec About a universe In which a lover's kiss Would either not be felt Or break the loved one's neck. — W. H. Auden

The Boys and the Frogs SOME BOYS, playing near a pond, saw a number of Frogs in the water and began to pelt them with stones. They killed several of them, when one of the Frogs, lifting his head out of the water, cried out: Pray stop, my boys: what is sport to you, is death to us. — Aesop

His icy lovecicle pressed against her dewy portal, demanding admittance to her passion chamber. How did a guy with no heartbeat, no pulse, get an erection? Who cares? — Nine Naughty Novelists

Grief causes you to leave yourself. You step outside your narrow little pelt. And you can't feel grief unless you've had love before it - grief is the final outcome of love, because it's love lost. [ ... ] It's the cycle of love completed: to love, to lose, to feel grief, to leave, and then to love again. Grief is the awareness that you will have to be alone, and there is nothing beyond that because being alone is the ultimate final destiny of each individual living creature. That's what death is, the great loneliness. — Philip K. Dick

Even as a child I was fascinated by death, not in a spiritual sense, but in an aesthetic one. A hamster or guinea pig would pass away, and, after burying the body, I'd dig it back up: over and over, until all that remained was a shoddy pelt. It earned me a certain reputation, especially when I moved on to other people's pets. "Igor," they called me. "Wicked, spooky." But I think my interest was actually fairly common, at least among adolescent boys. At that age, death is something that happens only to animals and grandparents, and studying it is like a science project. — David Sedaris

The teacher took two long strides and stood beside Parker's desk. Before the boy could speak, Mr. Earl threw the desktop open. For a second, he stared into it. A white glow reflected off his face.
"What is this?" he said, as he reached toward the brightness.
"Careful, Mr. Earl," Parker started to say, but it was too late.
The teacher screeched before lurching against the desk. He went down quickly, his feet vanishing into the desk last. — James Van Pelt

[In] radio, every segment of every hour is a challenge to fill in an interesting way. What I like the most about it is how challenging it is to do it well. — Scott Van Pelt

Hey, Catnip, says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I'd said Catnip. Then when this crazy lynx started following me around the woods looking for handouts, it became his official nickname for me. I finally had to kill the lynx because he scared off game. I almost regretted it because he wasn't bad company. But I got a decent price for his pelt. — Suzanne Collins

I laugh at the so-called 'practical' people and their wisdom. If one wants to live like a beast, it could naturally do, to turn its back on humanity's suffering and only care about its own pelt. — Karl Marx

Like all other lonely or hungry things, ego loves the light. It sees light, and the possibility of being close to the soul, and it creeps up to it and steals one of its essential camouflages. In a hunger for soul, our own ego-self steals the pelt — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

When I look in the mirror, I see the ageing process at full pelt, the hairline in retreat, the bags under the eyes growing and darkening, that kind of thing. I suppose it would be easier if I weren't an actor, but I am fairly philosophical about it. — Robert Webb

I would like a light on somewhere, a candle perhaps, stuck into a bottle, some echo of college, but anything like that would be too great a risk; so I have to make do with the searchlight, the glow of it from the grounds below, filtered through his white curtains which are the same as mine. I want to see what can be seen, of him, take him in, memorize him, save him up so I can live on the image, later: the lines of his body, the texture of his flesh, the glisten of sweat on his pelt, his long sardonic unrevealing face. I ought to have done that with Luke, paid more attention, to the details, the moles and scars, the singular creases; I didn't and he's fading. Day by day, night by night — Margaret Atwood

Then I got another mental image of him, broad chest covered in blond pelt, muscular forearms, big smooth cock jutting out of a silky nest. Riordan ordering me down on my knees, his hand tangling in my hair as he pulled my head toward his heat. The laugh died in my throat. — Josh Lanyon

A beep on the nose is a sign of great affection — Charles M. Schulz

Now and then there are readings that make the hairs on the neck, the non-existent pelt, stand on end and tremble, when every word burns and shines hard and clear and infinite and exact, like stones of fire, like points of stars in the dark - readings when the knowledge that we shall know the writing differently or better or satisfactorily, runs ahead of any capacity to say what we know, or how. In these readings, a sense that the text has appeared to be wholly new, never before seen, is followed, almost immediately, by the sense that it was always there, that we the readers, knew it was always there, and have always known it was as it was, though we have now for the first time recognised, become fully cognisant of, our knowledge. — A.S. Byatt

Can you burn me up with holy water? Poke me to death with your crucifix? Pelt me with communion wafers? — MaryJanice Davidson

My youngest brother killed a lynx yesterday," Rose said.
"Apparently it came into his territory and left some spray marks. He skinned it, smeared himself in its blood, and put its pelt on his shoulders like a cape. And that's how he came dressed for breakfast."
Cerise drank some beer. "My sister kills small animals and hangs their
corpses on a tree, because she thinks she is a monster and she's convinced
we'll eventually banish her from the house. They're her rations. Just in case."
Rose blinked. "I see. I think we're going to get along just fine, don't you?"
"I think so, yes. — Ilona Andrews

Yesterday in New York City, Donald Trump officially changed his political affiliation from Republican to Independent. And Donald's hair has switched from pelt to carpet sample. — Jay Leno

One day I would have all the books in the world, shelves and shelves of them. I would live my life in a tower of books. I would read all day long and eat peaches. And if any young knights in armor dared to come calling on their white chargers and plead with me to let down my hair, I would pelt them with peach pits until they went home. — Jacqueline Kelly

I have two speeds, nothing and full pelt. — Andre Rieu

The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged
though not dead. I know how the flowers felt. — Robert Frost

I'm game for anything. Will you pelt me with falling hearts in a symbolic rain of our unrequited love? Or perhaps chain me to a wall in lace made of moonlight and have your way with me? — A.G. Howard

One must know something of the truth in order to lie convincingly." The president smiled. "Well, they've had enough time to play this game. I hope my belated reaction will not disappoint them." "No, sir. Alex must have half expected you to kick him out the door." "The thought's occurred to me more than once. His diplomatic charm has always been lost on me. That's the one thing about the Russians - they remind me so much of the mafia chieftains I used to prosecute. The same smattering of culture and good manners, and the same absence of morality." The president shook his head. He was talking like a hawk again. "Stay close, Jeff. I have George Farmer coming in here in a few minutes, but I want you around when our friend comes back." Pelt walked back to his office pondering the president's remark. It was, he admitted to himself, crudely accurate. The most wounding insult to an educated Russian was to be — Tom Clancy

A breeze stirred Dovewing's pelt, as is someone had walked past. She lifted her head an saw two figures standing just beyond her Clanmates. One was a badger with a narrow, striped face, the other a grotesque, hairless cat who's blind, bulging eyes saw nothing but everything. They met her gaze and nodded, just once. "Thank you." Dovewing heard, quieter then a sigh.
"There will be three, kin of your kin, who will hold the power of the stars in their paws. They will find a fourth, and the battle between light and dark will be won. A new leader will rise fro the shadows. This s how it always has been, and always will be."
-Rock and Midnight, The Last Hope — Erin Hunter

We Venusians are sturdier than that. One can't even become part of the Protectorate until we've survived, naked and unarmed, in the harshest jungles of Venus. Only after a warrior crawls into civilization wearing the pelt of the fearsome screeching five-horned fiend do they pass the test. — A. Lee Martinez

Wait!" Dovewing panted, pebbles spraying out behind. Bumblestripe eased his pace enough for her to catch up. "What?" he growled. "Look." Dovewing tried to catch her breath but Bumblestripe was still running hard. "I'm sorry I snapped." Bumblestripe turned his head to look at her, his gaze hard as ice. "I'm tired of being used as your scratching post," he hissed. "From now on sharpen your claws on someone else." Dovewing's pelt pricked. "It's not my fault!" "I get it, okay?" He didn't even look at her. He just kept running. "You don't like me the same way I like you. I'll get over it. I'm just disappointed you're not the cat I thought you were. — Erin Hunter

He wasn't a pretty boy, his nose was crooked and his grin lopsided, but he had that square-jawed, salt-of-the-earth handsome look that made a girl think of loose-hipped cowboys and demanding Scottish Lairds. And speaking of Scottish Lairds, old mate was a redhead. Usually gingers weren't her scene but this guy's hair was the rich coppery-auburn of a fox's pelt. It gleamed like rose gold under the floodlights, his short beard the exact colour as the stuff on his head. Big Red was doing it for her. Big time. And apparently, the feeling was mutual. — Eve Dangerfield

He looked so frustrated and perfectly serious, and yet here we were talking about his missing seal pelt. — Katherine McIntyre

Urquhart could somehow feel the glow on his skin as the hairs on his arms raised up and the thick pelt of man fur that covered his torso and back prickled as if the legs of a thousand insects were crawling on his body. — Clive Cussler

Black Cat
A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
your sight can knock on, echoing; but here
within this thick black pelt, your strongest gaze
will be absorbed and utterly disappear:
just as a raving madman, when nothing else
can ease him, charges into his dark night
howling, pounds on the padded wall, and feels
the rage being taken in and pacified.
She seems to hide all looks that have ever fallen
into her, so that, like an audience,
she can look them over, menacing and sullen,
and curl to sleep with them. But all at once
as if awakened, she turns her face to yours;
and with a shock, you see yourself, tiny,
inside the golden amber of her eyeballs
suspended, like a prehistoric fly. — Rainer Maria Rilke

The origins of clothing are not practical. They are mystical and erotic. The primitive man in the wolf-pelt was not keeping dry; he was saying: Look what I killed. Aren't I the best? — Katharine Hamnett

He drew her into his arms, gathering her close, and dusted kisses over her cheek, her hair. Wrapped in his embrace, Laurien closed her eyes, murmuring a sigh of exquisite satisfaction. A delightful drowsiness overtook her and she gave in to it, snuggled securely against Darach's chest, lying on a stolen wolf pelt, in the hold on a ship of thieves. — Shelly Thacker

'I killed their pack leader,' Sevro says when I ask why the wolves follow him. He looks me up and down and flashes me an impish grin from beneath the wolf pelt. 'Don't worry, I wouldn't fit in your skin.' — Pierce Brown

Her pelt prickling with frustration, Hollykit pushed her way through the brambles and raced back to the nursery. She had just discovered how she wanted to serve her Clan, how to make sure that what she did really mattered. She wanted to be the next ThunderClan medicine cat! — Erin Hunter

Cinderheart gasped. Then her pelt smoothed. She lifted her chin. "Then I choose the life of a warrior." Her blue eyes shone. "And I choose you. — Erin Hunter

I know you don't think that any tongue I speak is mine; it must be rented. I am always denial, or pretense. A child born mid-flight has no nation. I can pull on either culture, but they always melt like a dream, trickle away, water on the oiled pelt of foreign. — Jasmine Ann Cooray

Lily knew what he meant. She loved places that people had forgotten, like the old gas station rotting on the edge of the forest in Pelt, all gray wood and brown metal. She liked to walk there sometimes and imagine that during tempests the king of the forest, dry leaves swirling around his motorcycle, would skid to a halt and demand unleaded gas from shadowy attendants while a mossy-faced knight sat in his sidecar. — M T Anderson

Frightened, he runs off to the silent fields
and howls aloud, attempting speech in vain;
foam gathers at the corners of his mouth;
he turns his lust for slaughter on the flocks,
and mangles them, rejoicing still in blood.
His garments now become a shaggy pelt;
his arms turn into legs, and he, to wolf
while still retaining traces of the man:
greyness the same, the same cruel visage,
the same cold eyes and bestial appearance. ~ The story of King Lycaon from Ovid's Metamorphosis, Book I, ll. 321-331 tr. Charles Martin — Ovid

Animals are happier than humans because they're like furry little existentialists, all living in the moment. Their collective motto: live fast, die young, and leave a good-looking pelt. — Richard Jeni

Why don't you put on an animal's pelt and drag me to your house by my hair? — Alexandra Ripley

(Sookie's Thoughts on Debbie Pelt) she had been cruel to Alcide, insulted me grievously, burned a hole in my favorite wrap and - oh - tried to kill me by proxy. Also, she had stupid hair. — Charlaine Harris

The best I can manage is to pretend that I don't notice him - which is like saying I have never once noticed the sky, or the itchy feel of grass against my legs, or the pelt of wind through an open car window. He's something you just have to notice - there's no overlooking about it — Holly Schindler

There are useful herbs growing near the oak tree by the stream," Flamepaw pointed out "Littlecloud would come for these" his tail curled up in amusement "Then we could pelt Blackfoot with acorns and he'd think they came from StarClan — Erin Hunter

We are all of us, in this world, more or less like St. January, whom the inhabitants of Naples worship one day, and pelt with baked apples the next. — Sophie Swetchine

The easiest story to sell is the story we want to buy. — Scott Van Pelt

Fireheart dashed to the warrior's side. Cloudtail was standing stiff-legged, every hair in his pelt on end as if he were facing an enemy. His eyes were fixed on the limp heap of tabby fur huddled at his paws.
"Why, Fireheart?" Cloudtail wailed. "Why her?"
Fireheart knew, but rage and grief made it hard to speak. "Because Tigerstar wants the pack to get a taste of cat blood," he rasped.
The dead cat lying in front of them was Brindleface. — Erin Hunter

Writing fiction feels like an adventurous act, nudging aside reality a word at a time. — James Van Pelt

Drab?" Soldier yelled. "I'll give you drab. Beat her, would you? Beat my wife? I'll feed your head to the vultures, you snotty little hamster with your golden pelt and buttery looks! — Kim Hunter

We need a rest and a meal more than you can imagine," Firestar meowed. Ravenpaw gazed at his friend's mud-stained pelt. "Oh, Firestar," he murmured, "I think I can imagine. — Erin Hunter

He knew how hot those rumbly-grumbly, gravel-voiced noises made her: hotter than two rats wrestling in a wool sock ... only not as scratchy. Or as smelly. Probably less squeaky, too. But she had to be strong. For the sake of her children. For the sake of her winery. For the sake of her poor, battered heart. For the sake of this story, which would be over far too quickly if she gave in to him now. — Nine Naughty Novelists

If you tried to make a show for every person's particular interest, it'd be impossible because everyone is going to consume it the way they want to. All you can do is try to do an hour that makes sense for all. — Scott Van Pelt

I want to see what can be seen, of him, take him in, memorize him, save him up so I can live on the image, later: the lines of his body, the texture of his flesh, the glisten of sweat on his pelt, his long sardonic unrevealing face. I ought to have done that with Luke, paid more attention, to the details, the moles and scares, the singular creases; I didn't and he's fading. Day by day, night by night he recedes, and I become more faithless. — Margaret Atwood

If life gives you lemons, find the bastard responsible and pelt him/her with the lemons until they stop giving them to you...or eat 'em. Whichever you prefer. — Grea Alexander

They would jeer him, and, if practicable, pelt him with missiles. — Stephen Crane

skidded to the other side and disappeared into the pines. Pelt bristling, eyes wide, Snowfur streaked after them, over the oily Thunderpath. Bluefur froze. A monster was roaring straight at Snowfur. Without slowing down, it slammed into her body. Bluefur heard the dull thump, then the howl of the monster as it thundered away, leaving Snowfur's body lying like a wet leaf at the edge of the Thunderpath. "No! — Erin Hunter

If you get made fun of working at Pier One Imports, you can't pelt them with poop. — Doug Stanhope