“Someone who takes me in like a humble dog, who opens the door for me, brushes me, feeds me, loves me severely like a dog, that’s all I want, like a dog, a child.” — Clarice Lispector trans. Alison Entrekin
“His eyes have the same intense expression as the eyes of a mute animal seeking to convey messages far beyond the power of words, the same pleading intent look of dog’s eyes transmitting a love or distress or anxiety we cannot always understand.” — Anais Nin
“I would love you as a bird loves flight, as meat loves salt, as a dog loves chase, as water finds its own level. Or I would not love you at all.” — Jeanette Winterson
“I wasn’t thrown into the pit of dogs. I dove.” — Jeanann Verlee
“Once, I kissed someone and I’m afraid it ruined the world. I’ve learned it’s not what you do with the knife—it’s how you hold it after. But how do you hold something like that? Something that never stops baring its teeth; a voiceless dog, all bite, no bark.” — Yasmin Belkhyr
“But you see, I was seventeen and alone and nobody gave me anything except one book by Dickinson and she was so neat, so precise, so human and I wasn’t. I just wasn’t. I was just a dog. I wasn’t even that good.” — Megan Fernandes
“Aren’t you a dog anyway, always groveling for love and begging to be petted?” — Kim Addonizio
“The length to which lost love drove men and women never surprised them. They had seen women pull their dresses over their heads and howl like dogs for lost love.” — Toni Morrison
— “Moon Song”, Phoebe Bridgers
“Your lonely, twitchy heart lounges like a dog on a chain, only dimly understanding the reason it must exhaust itself and then begin to howl, though no one ever comes.” — Kim Addonizio
“I became his accomplice. Afterward, alone in my apartment, I’d fall to the floor and howl like a dog. So as not to kill him. Because I liked it.” — Margarita Karapanou trans. by Karen Emmerich
— “Dog Years”, Maggie Rogers
“The wild dogs roam the summer fields just outside of town. Their eyes flash, bright stars in the woods at night and they weave like fire through the dry grass towards the edge of the city, looking for something to kill and eat. Love is like those wild dogs. If it hunts you down, it will not let you go. And what you can never know from the beginning is how hard or how long you’ll love something; how even when it has gone the love you felt will still chase you down, loping like dark flame through your blood.” — Helen Humphreys
“Love makes a dinner table out of us. Look how it strips us of our bones. Leaves us panting, like dogs left out in the heat.” — Karese Burrows
“But my body’s a bad dog, all dumb tongue and hunger, down on all fours again, tied up outside again, coming when called but then always refusing to stay.” — Ali Shapiro
“And then I realize I am no longer the one leading, my hand between its teeth —fingers tumbling down its gullet; I am being eaten, leash and all.” — Josh Corson
“Grief’s raw tongue licked at your calves insistently, the old, familiar dog. You could have allowed it to continue, until thick, pink loss slid down your throat, the tragedy of it purified through your kidneys.” — Moira J.
“I say: I am an old dog licking its sores just as they scab over. I say: I want to be raw flesh and no hurt.” — Venetta Octavia
“My body is useless. It lies, curled like a dog on the carpet. It has given up.” — Anne Sexton
“Let me hoard even the sorrow that has wandered in from the rain like a stray dog. Let me hold the ancient hungers welled up inside her.” — Melissa Studdard
“All organs must be remembered must not just be kept inside like a trinket in a chest, must not be shelved like old molasses must bark like hounds in the night/ sometimes she wants to eat their light but eats a lark instead, because she wants to possess its bone, because she wants to be a part of something.” — Lisa Marie Basile
— “Hounds of Love”, Kate Bush
“I want to be a better animal. I want to love what I can while I can: my dogs who cotton the grass, a song that fills my cup and gallops me under a hunter’s moon. So what if I snag in her antlers?” — Ruth Awad
“But sometimes, I swear I hear it, the wound closing like a rusted-over garage door, and I can still move my living limbs into the world without too much pain, can still marvel at how the dog runs straight toward the pickup trucks break-necking down the road, because she thinks she loves them, because she’s sure, without a doubt, that the loud roaring things will love her back.” — Ada Limon
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