Best 5 quotes in «pony quotes» category

Pony eyed the pitcher of hot fudge sauce Nellie had placed on the table. “And if you pass that pitcher, I will reveal a nugget of information that will please you and instantly return me to your good goddess graces.” Nellie pushed the pitcher forward. “Spill. Not the fudge sauce. The info.

Alec is sitting deep in the saddle, holding the mare firmly between hand and leg, not letting her get away from him. After a couple of quick circles, she steadies her stride and gets into a proper rhythm, moving with ease and grace across the turf, turning easily and responding to Alec’s light aids. There’s not much muscle on her light frame, her neck is thin and held high, giving a slightly giraffe-like impression, and her unease shows in the slight roll of her eye. But I can see now, so easily, the pony she could be. I can imagine myself cantering her into the ring, her copper coat glistening in the sun and neatly pulled mane ruffling in the light breeze, her slender legs dancing across the grassy turf. I can feel my own legs against her sides, the thickness of rubber reins taut between my fingers. I hear the sound of the jostling crowd and know that all eyes are on us as we canter around the ring. We hold their attention and admiration as they watch us jump easily over the highest obstacles. In my mind, the chestnut pony’s neck is arched, tail proudly aloft, her dark eyes bright and full of life and enthusiasm.

A stranger came out to White Acre one day to sell Henry a pony, for Alma to learn to ride. The pony's name was Soames, and he was the color of sugar icing, and Alma loved him immediately. A price was negotiated. The two men settled on three dollars. Alma, who was only six years old, asked, "Excuse me, sir, but does that price also include the bridle and saddle which the pony is currently wearing?" The stranger balked at the question, but Henry roared with laughter. "She's got you there, man!" he bellowed, and for the rest of that day, he ruffled Alma's hair whenever she came nearer, saying, "What a good little auctioneer I've got as a daughter!

Your pony, he said as he stomped toward me. "I'm the farrier who is here to fix your pony." "I thought you were a Hells Angel," I said. "I used to be," he replied. "But fighting all the time and being really drunk and nasty got boring. So now I just take care of animals.

My fantasy was that I was the long-lost switched-at-birth child of wealthy eccentrics. One day, they would find me and take me away from the gypsy caravan that was my life, and give me hot meals, a decent dress, and a pony.