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

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
Like
Tentacles
Octopus
Swallow
Yesterday
Reach
Past
Today

More quotes by Gladys Taber

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Nothing makes a house cozier than cats.
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History records the large events or the general condition of society, but only an individual can put down the way of life in a small town.
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Most cats feel that bird-catching is their duty the instinct goes back to prehistoric times. Amber keeps in practice by chasing moths.
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Father was the most unreconciled taxpayer I ever knew.
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I suppose I am a sparrow, a stay-at-home bird.
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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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Pride may go before a fall, but jealousy goes before destruction.
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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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Faith is a curious thing. It must be renewed it has its own spring.
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Old houses, I thought, do not belong to people ever, not really, people belong to them.
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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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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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My own recipe for world peace is a bit of land for everyone.
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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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The creative instincts, the love force must be nourished with every beat of our hearts until they overbalance the destructive instincts.
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Christmas is a bridge. We need bridges as the river of time flows past.
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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.
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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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Dog lovers are a good breed themselves.
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There is a kind of immortality in every garden.
Gladys Taber