Saving Kittens Quotes

Now we're going to save a bunch of dirty meatsacks from a bunch of dirty cannibals? Why don't we rescue some orphaned kittens and put food out for stray puppies while we're at it?

So, that's it? You think I'm just some idiot that fell for your bullshit! Well you're wrong! I fell in love with you, Caleb. I fell in love with your sick sense of humor. I fell in love with the way you protected me. You saved my life!" - Livvie/Kitten

Who was this person who could hack a man to pieces one day and save a kitten the next?

The skin-and-bones dog who shows up at your door. The broken-winged bird you nurse back to health. The kitten you find crying at the side of the road. You think you're saving them, don't you? Ah, child. Can't you see? They're saving you.

YOU SAVED MY LIFE WHEN YOU CLAIMED ME, KITTEN. AND YOU'VE SAVED IT EVERYDAY SINCE. IT HAS TAKEN THOUSANDS OF YEARS, BUT THANK YOU FOR FINALLY GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO RETURN THE FAVOUR. ETERNALLY YOURS, NIYX

I love you, Kitten." How puny those words seemed compared to the feelings strafing mine, but his voice vibrated as he said them. Then he crouched beside me. "I would never hurt you that way save for one reason: to keep you safe. I can live with your anger, your retribution...bloody hell, despise me if you must, but don't expect me to behave as though you aren't the most important thing in my life. You are, and I will let no one, yourself included, bring you to harm.

God kills a kitten every time a girl masturbates. Save a kitten—sleep with me.” —Caine Deathwalker

Dying people lie too. Wish they'd worked less, been nicer, opened orphanages for kittens. If you really want to do something, you do it. You don't save it for a sound bite.

Having a half-naked sexy dragon shifter with his arm around me … while he made plans to save his pet kitten … made my ovaries ache for his babies.

Justin wandered over to the big fir between the coach house and his studio, and began freeing the new growth from their rust colored casings. “Why do you do that?” I walked around kitten’s nose, and came up behind him. “So they have a few more days in the sun.” “Is that why you keep trying to save me? So I have a few more days in the sun?” He shook his head and glanced back at me. “No. You still don’t understand do you? You are my sun.

Simon told me I should take you home and start making kits. What do you think?” Max looked down at her, love and lust glowing equally in his brilliant smile. “Max?” “What?” His tone was wary; he’d come to expect the unexpected when she used that particular tone of voice. “Will I give birth to a baby or a litter?” “Emma,” he groaned. “I mean, will we be feeding them baby formula or Kitten Chow?” “Emma!” “If they get stuck in a tree, who do we call? Does the fire department do kitten rescues anymore? This is important stuff to know, Lion-O!” “God save me.

Wait, I'm confused," Jackal said as we began walking back the way we came. "Did the entire world just get turned on its head? Now we're going to save a bunch of dirty meatsacks from a bunch of dirty cannibals? Why don't we rescue some orphaned kittens and put food out for stray puppies while we're at it?

Tell me something about yourself.” “I’d rather save the small talk.” “There’s no need to be rude, child, and believe me, I’m asking for a reason. Tell me something about yourself. Anything.” “I’m twenty-eight . . .” He rejected that one out of hand. “Something personal. Something . . . interior. Tell me something you love.” I thought about it for a long few seconds, then said, “Ralph Lauren’s summer line this year. Not the spring collection, which was way too pastel, and the winter was really crappy, all bland browns and grays. But he’s got some good fabrics this summer, kind of a hot tangerine matched with dull red. Only he skirts, though. Hiscapri pants are for shit. Pockets? Who wants pockets on capri pants? What woman in her right mind puts extra fabric on her hips?” There was a long and ringing silence. Patrick’s eyes were wide and rather frightened. He finally cleared his throat and said, “Anything else apart from fashion?” “What do you want me to say? Puppies? Fluffy kittens? Babies?” “Let’s try something simple. Your favorite food.” I rolled my eyes. “Chocolate.” Duh .

She [my mother] tapped my hand lightly with her fingers and, looking out the window, said, "You know, I've missed having a mother. It's a gaping hole. I think having a mother is one of the great things in life--one of the only things that can save you. I'm always looking for my mother and, frankly, Kitten, it's becoming exhausting, so I thought I'd ask you if you would be my mother. You just have that way about you. You're not really what anyone would call a typical daughter, but I think you have exactly what it takes to be a mother. Don't you think it's a good idea?

If you mention Bella's name to me again, Gil, I am likely to do you a mischief!' Sherry warned him. 'I never cared the snap of my fingers for that wretched girl, and if you are not assured of that, ask her! Why, God save the mark, she may be a beauty, but give me my Kitten! Bella, with her airs and her graces, and her miffs, and her curst sharp tongue! No, I thank you! What's more, no man who had lived with Kitten would look twice at the Beauty!

January? The month is dumb. It is fraudulent. It does not cleanse itself. The hens lay blood-stained eggs. Do not lend your bread to anyone lest it nevermore rise. Do not eat lentils or your hair will fall out. Do not rely on February except when your cat has kittens, throbbing into the snow. Do not use knives and forks unless there is a thaw, like the yawn of a baby. The sun in this month begets a headache like an angel slapping you in the face. Earthquakes mean March. The dragon will move, and the earth will open like a wound. There will be great rain or snow so save some coal for your uncle. The sun of this month cures all. Therefore, old women say: Let the sun of March shine on my daughter, but let the sun of February shine on my daughter-in-law. However, if you go to a party dressed as the anti-Christ you will be frozen to death by morning. During the rainstorms of April the oyster rises from the sea and opens its shell — rain enters it — when it sinks the raindrops become the pearl. So take a picnic, open your body, and give birth to pearls. June and July? These are the months we call Boiling Water. There is sweat on the cat but the grape marries herself to the sun. Hesitate in August. Be shy. Let your toes tremble in their sandals. However, pick the grape and eat with confidence. The grape is the blood of God. Watch out when holding a knife or you will behead St. John the Baptist. Touch the Cross in September, knock on it three times and say aloud the name of the Lord. Put seven bowls of salt on the roof overnight and the next morning the damp one will foretell the month of rain. Do not faint in September or you will wake up in a dead city. If someone dies in October do not sweep the house for three days or the rest of you will go. Also do not step on a boy's head for the devil will enter your ears like music. November? Shave, whether you have hair or not. Hair is not good, nothing is allowed to grow, all is allowed to die. Because nothing grows you may be tempted to count the stars but beware, in November counting the stars gives you boils. Beware of tall people, they will go mad. Don't harm the turtle dove because he is a great shoe that has swallowed Christ's blood. December? On December fourth water spurts out of the mouse. Put herbs in its eyes and boil corn and put the corn away for the night so that the Lord may trample on it and bring you luck. For many days the Lord has been shut up in the oven. After that He is boiled, but He never dies, never dies.

I'm not fretting about control with you, Kitten. Command me as you see fit while I'm on your team. I'll save my demands for the bedroom," he added with a wink

Cheers, kitten," Sirius said and swallowed the drink down quickly before returning to the cabinet. All the while she watched him with trepidation. "Let's go save Moony.

Rhoda Palmateer, in loving memory. Rhoda’s love saved the day for many hundreds of cats and kittens who otherwise would have languished on the streets or died in shelters.

I never found a way to write about it until I wrote this letter to you, Ruler, when I realized it was a story you needed to hear. Not how the kittens suffered during those weeks they were wandering inside the dark building with no way out—though surely there’s something there too—but how they saved themselves. How frightened those kittens were, and yet how they persisted. How when two strangers offered up their palms, they stepped in.

Brutes, those cops were, talking about me that way. Didn’t they know I’d been the wife of a scientist? Didn’t they know I’d worn the most elegant silk blend dresses, gone to dinners at the university? The wife of a state senator had complimented me on my hairdo. They’d printed my picture in the paper a few times. I’d sung in a chorus at college. I’d studied Japanese calligraphy. I once saved a kitten that had crawled up into the wheel well of an old man’s car. And what were those cops good for? Pulling people over for speeding? I pictured their mindspace crawling with headless rats, spewing blood, white flashing neck bones, severed heads gnawing at dead headless bodies. It made me sick to imagine their thoughts, those monsters.

Not how the kittens suffered during those weeks they were wandering inside the dark building with no way out—though surely there’s something there too—but how they saved themselves. How frightened those kittens were, and yet how they persisted. How when two strangers offered up their palms, they stepped in.

Edilio lay on the steps of town hall feeling as weak as a kitten. He had barely heard Caine’s big speech. He couldn’t have cared less. There was nothing he could do, not with delirium spinning his head. He coughed hard, too hard. It wracked his body each time he did it so that he dreaded the next cough. His stomach was clenched in knots. Every muscle in his body ached. He was vaguely aware that he was saying something in between coughs. “Mamá. Mamá. Sálvame.” Save me, mother. “Santa María, sálvame,” he begged, and coughed so hard he smashed his head against the steps. Death was near, he felt it. Death reached through his swimming, disordered mind and he felt its cold hand clutching his heart. Santa María, Madre de Dios, ruega por nosotros pecadores, ahora y en la hora de nuestra muerte.

Eragon! Saphira! Rouse yourselves! Eragon’s eyes snapped open. He sat upright and grabbed Brisingr. All was dark, save for the dull red glow of the bed of coals to his right and a ragged patch of starry sky off to the east. Though the light was faint, Eragon was able to make out the general shape of the forest and the meadow…and the monstrously large snail that was sliding across the grass toward him. Eragon yelped and scrambled backward. The snail--whose shell was over five and a half feet tall--hesitated, then slimed toward him as fast as a man could run. A snakelike hiss came from the black slit of its mouth, and its waving eyeballs were each the size of his fist. Eragon realized that he would not have time to get to his feet, and on his back he did not have the space he needed to draw Brisingr. He prepared to cast a spell, but before he could, Saphira’s head arrowed past him and she caught the snail about the middle with her jaws. The snail’s shell cracked between her fangs with a sound like breaking slate, and the creature uttered a faint, quavering shriek. With a twist of her neck, Saphira tossed the snail into the air, opened her mouth as wide as it would go, and swallowed the creature whole, bobbing her head twice as she did, like a robin eating an earthworm. Lowering his gaze, Eragon saw four more giant snails farther down upon the rise. One of the creatures had retreated within its shell; the others were hurrying away upon their undulating, skirtlike bellies. “Over there!” shouted Eragon. Saphira leaped forward. Her entire body left the ground for a moment, and then she landed upon all fours and snapped up first one, then two, then three of the snails. She did not eat the last snail, the one hiding in its shell, but drew back her head and bathed it in a stream of blue and yellow flame that lit up the land for hundreds of feet in every direction. She maintained the flame for no more than a second or two; then she picked up the smoking, steaming snail between her jaws--as gently as a mother cat picking up a kitten--carried it over to Eragon, and dropped it at his feet. He eyed it with distrust, but it appeared well and truly dead. Now you can have a proper breakfeast, said Saphira.

Ivy has no idea how much her words from almost five years ago are still somehow saving me. Maybe that’s what I’ll name the kitten. Ivy.

People would come up to me on the street and say, 'I just want to thank you for being so brave!' Why am I so fucking brave? I'm not going off to fight in a war! I'm not running into a burning building to save kittens! What are people going on about? I'm brave because I'm just ME?? Because I dare to exist as a plus-size woman in Hollywood?...They wanted me to represent for women of a different body type, and the way they kept going on about being 'brave' made me wonder—gosh, how many negative comments were these women getting about their bodies in their daily life? What was the negative commentary running in their own minds?

I was having a normal morning, getting up, getting ready for coffee and whatever else the day had to offer. I had gone back upstairs for something and all of a sudden, life took a crazy twist. My girlfriend was hollering, "Come, go get that cat. It is going to get hit!" There were cars all over the highway and I thought there was an accident or something. I rushed across the highway to get what looked like a dead kitten. It was lifeless. I didn't think he was going to live. I rushed him to the vet and they told me that I may be wasting my time with him. They said they were going to have to put him down. I refused to have this done, so they said to come back, and they would try to clean him up and give me medication for him. But they were thinking he wouldn't make it. He wouldn't eat, drink, or even move. I thought he was dead. I went back after the weekend and picked him up. He was still in bad shape but was eating and drinking. I took him home and kept up on his medication and feedings. We gave him the name of Lucky. You wouldn't think this baby was ever hurt. He's so alive and well. I had faith in him and he pulled through. Walter Hall

I first got him, he was the kind of cat that was so fearful of humans, he would rather hide-away and starve to death than come out and face anyone. Only when I was asleep would he come out to play like a typical kitten, which is normal, since cats are generally nocturnal, anyway. You know how cats shed terribly when they're stressed or frightened? The poor boy would shed everywhere, and if I carried him, I'd put him down to find a distinct line of cat hair trailing down my shirt. His rescuers found him in a trailer park, with two of his siblings that I know of and his mother, who was so horribly abused that she still had the pellets of a BB gun in her flesh from, I'm assuming, the children who used her as target practice. His siblings have both been adopted into forever homes, the female of

Jack and Caleb stood in the driveway, the cars’ engines revving, and talked about their new toys. The lights from the porch spilled down to them. Jenna stood, leaning against the post, watching, enjoying seeing their bond and appreciation of the cars. “Boys with toys.” She smiled from the top step. “You guys look happy.” “What’s not to be happy about? These are the coolest cars ever,” Caleb said with the exuberance of a teen with his very own custom hot rod. “You owe me a ride, Jack.” “Honey, I aim to give you the ride of your life as soon as this one goes home to his wife.” Jack gave her a wicked grin and closed the hood of his car. Jenna laughed and smiled. “You have a one-track mind.” When was the last time she felt this light? “Honey, my mind hasn’t been off you since I saw you in the diner.” “I got the hint. I’m going.” Caleb closed the hood of his car, still purring like a really big kitten. He walked over to Jenna as she came down the porch steps to the gravel drive. He wrapped his arms around her, careful of her healing back, and she wrapped hers around him. So easy to do now that she’d opened herself to him, the whole family. He bent and whispered into her ear, “Thank you. Thank you for what you gave to my wife, my children, and me. I’ll never be able to repay you. If you ever need me, I’ll be there for you, no matter what. You can count on me. You’re an angel, an absolute angel.” “Get your hands off my woman. You have one of your own at home.” Jack watched his brother-in-law with Jenna. They’d created a close bond, the same as with his sister. She didn’t shy away from him when he embraced her; instead she held him and drew on his strength. Caleb would be like a big brother to her. He would protect her. Caleb drew Jenna away just enough to look into her eyes. He put his hand to her cheek, his other arm still wrapped around her. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome, Caleb. You’re a good man.” “You make me want to be a better one.” “I just want you and your family to have a happy life.” “We will, thanks in part to you and Jack. You’re part of that family now, too. Don’t ever forget that.” “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me. You’re a wonderful person. The best I’ve ever met.” He kissed her cheek and released her, turning back toward Jack. “I already punched you for kissing my sister. I guess I have to punch you for kissing her now, too,” Jack teased. Caleb didn’t rise to the bait. “You hurt her, and I’ll be the one throwing the punches.” He smiled back at Jack, then walked over and gave him a big bear hug. “Thanks for what you did for me, Summer, and the kids. It means everything to us. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smacked Jack on the back before getting into his car. Caleb revved the engine, beamed them an excited smile, and took off like a rocket toward home. “You going to hurt me, Jack?” “Not if I can help it. I’ll spend the rest of my life and yours trying to make you happy. How’s that sound?” “Like heaven. Take me for a ride.” -Jenna, Caleb, & Jack

Don’t flatter yourself. You were just the last stop on my tour of rock bottom.” “Aww, saving the best for last, kitten?” Avi mocked.

Even if you stick mainly to mainstream sites, you've probably seen glimpses of the internet's underbelly in the comment section at the bottom of news articles. The article could be about local man saving a box of kittens from a burning building, but no matter: the comments will accuse him of hating dogs, setting the building on fire in the first place, and secretly being Barack Obama's Kenyan uncle.

I still don't know to this day how she managed to climb the 94 stairs; she was dying from an overdose. The gate at the bottom of the stairwell did not make a sound when she entered the building, being so ill and alone. It was odd. Where could she have been? Almost as if she had been dropped off at my doorstep like a package silently by a (Polish) giant. She was pale and could barely open the door with her keys. When she entered, she fell into my arms; she was drunk and high, her legs buckling so that she couldn't stand. I tried to figure out what she had taken and what she had drunk, but she could barely talk; her eyes were rolling back in her skull. She was crying with her head in the toilet bowl, unable to stop the cramps running through her insides and her entire body shaking. - What did you drink? - Two … beers. - I am not your father. What did you take? Where have you been? - Beers and tequila - she mumbled, saliva drooling out of her mouth and her head hanging down like she was dead already. Then I asked her what else she had taken. She still wouldn't answer, so I repeated. - Answer me Martina, who gave it to you?! - I shouted. - Where have you been?! But she didn't answer, and her condition was critical, so I had to rush her to the hospital in my arms as she was about to lose consciousness. I had to grab her and take her to the closest hospital across Parallel, two blocks away. This was the first time I had taken her to the hospital since she'd split her chin by falling off my bicycle allegedly before, although it wasn't the last. Interestingly, whenever she got involved with a new group of criminals, she wound up in the hospital both times, and both times I took her there. She had no energy to lift her head out of the toilet bowl. As soon as I entered the hospital with her, the staff and I had to put her in a wheelchair. They took her inside and 20 minutes later when I was sitting by her bed, she already felt better with an IV dripping slowly into her vein, but she was unable to move; she was lying in her hospital bed, barely able to open her eyes to look at me. She was between life and death, or between real life and just a dream. I remembered less than a year earlier she was so full of life and happy and healthy when I put her up on that set of chairs that night when we took off the 'for sale' sign. The doctors told me after she fell asleep that they wanted to rinse her stomach, but she didn't authorize that. I was not fully aware that she was on drugs time to time or all the time and with what kind of people she was associated with. She almost only showed up at home in September 2014 when she overdosed. I was in love and worried for her so much, so I filled out the forms while they treated her in the hospital. I prayed to God to save her, asking for Him to show her the Truth. All I had was a prayer—50/50 if it worked. And I remembered that two years before, I had prayed for the life of our kitten Sabrina was playing with, making friends. This time, however, I had to rush to the hospital, not the vet, with my 20-year-old girlfriend who would soon be 21 in October 2014. And I felt like Sabrina, trying to make friends again but by the wrong people was the reason why I, an atheist, was praying for a puppy or a kitten or a bunny's life this time again. I didn't know that lies and secrets were eating away at her from deep inside once in a while as well, it wasn't just the drugs that were killing her insides like cancer. Just like her brother's intestines silently began to consume him and her, unbeknownst to them, but I could almost sense it like a dog if I could not see it, smell it inside them like X-ray. They were unaware of what my eyes had seen, as I watched their vibrations and faces silently change.

She's as jumpy as a kitten on a catnip bender.

She's as jumpy as a kitten on a catnip bender.

In a world of billions of people, we've got the one thing that guides our souls back to each other. That's destiny, Kitten.

In a world of billions of people, we've got the one thing that guides our souls back to each other. That's destiny, Kitten.

The Kitten poster reminds me of Blake Snyder’s SAVE THE CAT! The Last Book on Screenwriting That You’ll Ever Need, which has a cover with a similar image. I hope the kitten falls to its death. This hope is not born out of maliciousness, but sympathy. What's the point of hanging in there if no one's going to save you? The little fucker can only hang on for so long.

Malcolm looked around the room. “Just so we have this straight. I’m going undercover in a cult that might be planning to use explosives to harm a lot of people in the name of the Bible.” He tried to quiet the rioting in his head. “I’ve slept with the mark, who we all know I want to save. The new shrink wants to get into my head, and I don’t want that.” “I really do want inside your head,” Nari said, her eyes lighting up. Mal ignored her and looked at Wolfe. “You’re a little nuts and now have a kitten in your pocket.” Wolfe nodded. “And you, our leader.” Mal focused on Angus. “Not only are you obsessed with a serial killer case that might just exist in your mind and splits your focus, but you have a high-heel-loving dog that’s also an alcoholic.” “What’s your point?” Force asked, his dark eyebrows slashing down. His point? What the hell was his point? He scrubbed both hands down his whiskered jaw. “I’m not going to ask what could go wrong. You know why? I just want to know what’s going to go right.” “Probably not much,” Wolfe said cheerfully. Then he fed another Goldfish Cracker to his kitten while the dog clip-clopped around the room and scratched up something called Jimmy Choos.

Sorry. Tell him if he wants to save his village, he needs to let you borrow his weapons.” “If you don’t lend me your weapons, your village will be destroyed!” Hmm. That didn’t come out right. Yeah, I really messed that up.

When something unfortunate occurs, I tell myself it's the less-bad thing I bargained with the universe for in exchange for something worse not happening...Or let's say I'm trying on clothes and feel less than impressed with my pasty, flat-chested reflection in the dressing room mirror. I just tell myself that something terrible must have been about to happen in the alternate version of my life - like maybe some kittens were abut to be hit by a truck while the busty, even-skin-toned version of me was out jogging - and in my courageous way, I said, 'LORD, TAKE MY TAN AND MY BOOBS. JUST SAVE THE KITTENS.

I pulled a dagger from my belt and was instantly at Avatrex's throat. Dimitri pursed his lips a little, but didn't stop me. "I would kill a thousand men to save my sisters," I seethed, glaring. "I'm not the timid little 'kitten' you kidnapped over a month ago, so I suggest you start talking.

Ah, Goddess be praised. I lived to see the kitten and the killer fall in love.” The woman’s eyes turned white. “Your love will conquer all, even death. Give yourself to the one your heart sings for, little Omega, and you will save him and all of his brothers.

the expression of an unhappy kitten treacherously captured, roughly handled, frightened and subjected to all sorts of indignities by children, till, utterly crestfallen, it hides away from them under a chair in the dark, and there must needs at its leisure bristle up, spit, and wash its insulted face with both paws, and long afterwards look angrily at life and nature, and even at the bits saved from the master’s dinner for it by the sympathetic housekeeper?