James Herriot

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I could do terrible things to people who dump unwanted animals by the roadside.

I am never at my best in the early morning, especially a cold morning in the Yorkshire spring with a piercing March wind sweeping down from the fells, finding its way inside my clothing, nipping at my nose and ears.

I hope to make people realize how totally helpless animals are, how dependent on us, trusting as a child must that we will be kind and take care of their needs.

I became a connoisseur of that nasty thud a manuscript makes when it comes through the letter box.

I have felt cats rubbing their faces against mine and touching my cheek with claws carefully sheathed. These things, to me, are expressions of love.

I wish people would realize that animals are totally dependent on us, helpless, like children, a trust that is put upon us.

If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans.

Cats are connoisseurs of comfort.

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