Quote

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.

Gladys Taber

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Gladys Taber
Age: 80 †
Born: 1899
Born: April 12
Died: 1980
Died: March 11
Author
Writer
Colorado Springs
Colorado
Gladys Bagg Taber
Cannot
Dog
Tolerant
Around
Sun
Ring
Make
Wants
Whereas
Things
Imagine
Rings
Would
Happy
Obedience
Making
Hot
Sense
Cat
Running
Command

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Christmas is a bridge. We need bridges as the river of time flows past. Today's Christmas should mean creating happy hours for tomorrow and reliving those of yesterday.
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Being a good neighbor is an art which makes life richer.
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Almost all words do have colour and nothing is more pleasant than to utter a pink word and see someone's eyes light up and know it is a pink word for him or her too.
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I suppose I am a sparrow, a stay-at-home bird.
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Perhaps, after all, our best thoughts come when we are alone. It is good to listen, not to voices but to the wind blowing, to the brook running cool over polished stones, to bees drowsy with the weight of pollen. If we attend to the music of the earth, we reach serenity. And then, in some unexplained way, we share it with others.
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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.
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Father was the most unreconciled taxpayer I ever knew.
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The real evidence of growing older is that things level off in importance.
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the tentacles of today reach out like an octopus to swallow yesterday.
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If I had Aladdin's lamp and the usual three wishes, the first would always be, 'Give me the first day of June.
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the real evidence of growing older is that things level off in importance ... Days are no longer jagged peaks to climb time is a meadow, and we move over it with level steps.
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June in New England is like a lover's dream made tangible.
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Long cold nights mark November's return, grey rains fall, wind walks in the bronze oak leaves.
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A good recipe for a human reducing breakfast is a lot of good things to eat, and three spaniels and two cats to eat with.
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Happiness is a thing of now.
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Faith is a curious thing. It must be renewed it has its own spring.
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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.
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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.
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Pride may go before a fall, but jealousy goes before destruction.
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Old houses, I thought, do not belong to people ever, not really, people belong to them.
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