Christopher Farnsworth > Christopher's Quotes

“Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.”
― Mark Twain

“A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.”
― Josh Billings

“If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much.”
― Mark Twain

“If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”
― Will Rogers

“Dogs are our link to paradise. They don't know evil or jealousy or discontent. To sit with a dog on a hillside on a glorious afternoon is to be back in Eden, where doing nothing was not boring--it was peace.”
― Milan Kundera

“If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man.”
― Mark Twain

“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”
― Groucho Marx, The Essential Groucho: Writings For By And About Groucho Marx

“The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven not man's.”
― Mark Twain

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.”
― Robert Louis Stevenson

“I care not for a man's religion whose dog and cat are not the better for it.”
― Abraham Lincoln

“Dogs' lives are too short. Their only fault, really.”
― Agnes Sligh Turnbull

“If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons. ”
― James Thurber

“They [dogs] never talk about themselves but listen to you while you talk about yourself, and keep up an appearance of being interested in the conversation. ”
― Jerome K. Jerome

“Slowly, Anna put up a hand to his muzzle and began to scratch that spot behind the ear where large dogs keep their souls.”
― Eva Ibbotson, A Countess Below Stairs

“He decided that we suffer from great temporal homesickness for the decade we were born in.”
― Thomas Pynchon, V.

“At the stroke of midnight in Washington, a drooling red-eyed beast with the legs of a man and a head of a giant hyena crawls out of its bedroom window in the South Wing of the White House and leaps fifty feet down to the lawn...pauses briefly to strangle the Chow watchdog, then races off into the darkness...towards the Watergate, snarling with lust, loping through the alleys behind Pennsylvania Avenue, and trying desperately to remember which one of those fore hundred identical balconies is the one outside of Martha Mitchell's apartment....Ah...Nightmares, nightmares. But I was only kidding. The President of the United States would never act that weird. At least not during football season.”
― Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing: On the Campaign Trail '72