Best 1965 quotes in «horse quotes» category

:Do you trust me?: Wareska quietly linked. :To stay alive? No. You and the monster will get lost in riddles and philosophizing. Then you will make some grand, heroic gesture, poorly thought-out and overestimating your own strength, and when the creature has roasted you alive, I will be the one sweeping up the ashes – figuratively speaking, of course. Lest we forget, I do not have hands.:

Dream big and see further! Sharpen your eyes; you have the eagle’s sight. Quicken your steps; you have the horse’s limbs. All that is a burden for others would be beaten several times by you!

He thought he saw some horses, too, and a clown, but it was the faces of all those dead raptors that really bothered him. And maybe that clown a little bit.

From horses we may learn not only about the horse itself but also about animals in general, indeed about ourselves and about life as a whole.

He looks like a horse in a man costume!

He was waiting there for her beside the pool - a great black horse with shoulders like polished ebony and the water still streaming from his mane and tail. Morag stood and looked at him for a long moment. The great horse looked at her and never moved. “Will you trust me?” he had asked her the evening before, and she had trusted him then. She trusted him now, and so she walked towards him. She grasped his mane, and still the black horse never moved. She stood on a stone beside him, swung herself onto his back, and the black horse moved.

Got here half an hour ago and had a look, eyeballin' it," Sawyer said. "It's murder, all right. Tell you something else - the sun went down, and it's as dark as the inside of a horses's ass out here." "You're sure?" "Well, I've never actually been inside a horses's ass.

Had I crossed the pass Supported by a stick, I would have spared myself The fall from the horse.

He had ridden his horse into the saloon on a dare from a whore – his practice was always to accept dares; it spiced life up a little.

He left his footprints burnt into my heart.

He left his hoofprints burnt into my heart

Horse was already in the heart of the Trojans. (Cheval était déjà dans le cœur des Troyens.)

Horse: Fuckin' knight in shining armor. Might wanna trade your bike in for a pretty pink unicorn to ride, seein' as you're such a special snowflake and all.

Horse: So tell me, brother. How many times you seen The Notebook? 'Cause that's information the boys back home are gonna need to know.

Horses get anxious when their expectations are not met.

Horses don't speak, but they communicate through body language. If you look very closely, you'll find out your horse has been trying to talk to you every day.

Horse: Wood like you were sporting usually implies the opposite. Unless it was for me? If that's the case, I'm genuinely flattered. No judgements.

In every four there is one the slowest, and one the swiftest; and while the race is always to the slowest, the trouble is always with the swiftest.

I,believe, as do so many of my fellow Americans, that the wild horse is an irreplaceable national treasure. It would be a tragic mistake to allow this noble creature to disappear from our western landscape.” – Robert Redford

I’d be happier on a horse,” Makin said. “I’d be happier on a giant mountain goat,” I said. “One that shat diamonds. Until we find some, we’re walking.

If you act like you've only got fifteen minutes, it will take all day. Act like you've got all day, it will take fifteen minutes.

If you harm a horse do you make him better or worse?" "Worse.

If you were called to gallop like the horse, never end up hopping like the frog. Rise up for greatness.

In every nation’s history time comes to behave like wild horses, to refuse any kind of authority which tries to eliminate your freedom!

...it wasn't for the love of a man that she took those chances, but for the love of a horse.

In the sea, Corr’s clumsiness will disappear, his weight cradled by the saltwater. I don’t want to say good-bye. I blink to clear my vision and reach up. I pull off his halter. The ocean is his love and now, finally, he’ll have it. I back out of the surf. There’s a thin, long wail. Corr takes a labored step away from the November sea. And another. He is slow, and the sea sings to us both, but he returns to me.

It is commonly said that a good horse should have fifteen properties and conditions, namely: three of a man, three of a woman, three of a fox, three of a hare and three of an ass: like a man, he should be bold, proud and hardy; like a woman, he should be fair breasted, fair of hair and easy to lie upon; like a fox, he should have a fair tail, short ears and go with a good trot; like a hare, he should have a great eye, a dry head and run well; and like an ass, he should have a big chin, a flat leg and a good hoof.

I went back to my conversation with Siegfried that morning; we had just about decided that the man with a lot of animals couldn't be expected to feel affection for individuals among them. But those buildings back there were full of John Skipton's animals - he must have hundreds. Yet what made him trail down that hillside every day in all weathers? Why had he filled the last years of those two old horses with peace and beauty? Why had he given them a final ease and comfort which he had withheld from himself? It could only be love.

McGee’s old touring car had once been green. It had also been painted black, but this had worn thin and you could see the original green coming through on the hood. The fenders were still black. The speedometer said 53,562 miles, but the motor was smooth. McGee drove as though he had a horse in front, saying ‘Giddap’ when he wanted to start and ‘Whoa’ when he was stopping. I was scared he would forget the horse wasn’t there sometime and try to stop by pulling back on the steering-wheel. He didn’t, though.

Marie's drunk texts: Marie: Horse, muss yu Marie: Why dont anser? Marie: Horse like yur name. Horsey. I'd like to rid u horsey, LOL. You sleeping? Or busy with someone? Marie: I know yur there. I bet you got a new gurl alredy. Screw you. Marie: Screw you and your slut. I hate you. Take yur club and shove it up yur ass I wudn't be yoor old lady for ten milion dollrs.

Passion is a Horse Given to Us to Discipline.

My dear lady, you cannot afford me, and also, please leave that horse alone. - Magnus Bane, The Midnight Heir (The Bane Chronicles, 4) by Cassandra Clare and Sarah Rees Brennan

No mortal ear could have heard the kelpie passing through the night, for the great black hooves of it were as soundless in their stride as feathers falling.

:No,: Wareska said at once, :we should go back.: She heard the horse laugh softly into her mind. :Wareska,: he said in amusement, :it is not like you to ever look back.: :I look back when sense dictates.: :It is hard for horses to look back. We don’t really have shoulders. I guess we look back over our butt?:

Once a month, for one evening, we are free to wear our natural skins. We are on the outside as we are internally.

Once Errol righted himself into some semblance of horsemanship, they set off at an easy canter. That is, the other horses set off at a canter, while Errol's horse settled into a teeth-shattering trot. After a hundred paces he could feel Horace's backbone through the saddle. The other riders pulled ahead without a backward glance, leaving him to his four-footed torture.

My love is sticky, like glue. I'd kill a horse just to give you some.

Naturalists tell of a noble race of horses that instinctively open a vein with their teeth, when heated and exhausted by a long course, in order to breathe more freely. I am often tempted to open a vein, to procure for myself everlasting liberty. Cento volte ho impugnato una lama per conficcarmela nel cuore. Si dice di una nobile razza i cavalli,che quando si sentono accaldati e affaticati, si aprono istintivamente una vena, per respirare più liberamente. Spesso anche io vorrei aprirmi una vena che mi desse libertà eterna.

Thank you. That was the most fun I've had in a very long time." The horse felt the same way. His life thus far had been such a rocky journey, short on joy and long on sorrow. But as Darling led him toward the shiny Ever After High stables, he knew in his heart that his story had changed. "I hope you don't mind if, on occasion, I ask you to use your camouflage skills." She giggled. "Just so we can have a fun adventure now and then." He nodded. She stopped walking and looked into his eyes. "And, because you're the horse of a princess, I think you should have the perfect knightly name. I shall hereby call you Sir Gallopad." She kissed both his cheeks, then bowed. He smiled and bowed in return. And his story began.

She'll never be all the way tame, just the way she's made ... sorta like you, I imagine." - Cowboy McKennon Kelly ponders Cowgirl in Training Devon Brooke

Sir Gallopad, a pure-white horse with a glossy white mane, had been chosen for Darling specifically for his size and demeanor. He was small, shy, and quiet. He'd never thrown anyone from the saddle, had never bucked or kicked. Riding him could be a chore because he liked to stop and nibble on shrubbery. The Charming Committee on Appropriate Pets had been delighted with Sir Gallopad, confident that the princess would be safe with such a timid creature. And they were thrilled to learn that he possessed the magical ability to change colors, which allowed him to camouflage himself if danger should appear. But what the committee didn't know was that, like Darling, Sir Gallopad also had a secret. He loved to gallop!

So...Rayna and Nico," he said. "From the secon she saw him," I agreed. "They seem good together," Ben said. Then he smiled, adding, "And here I didn't think Rayna was a stable person." "Oooooh." I winced at the bad joke. "What? I'm just horsing around." "Ugh, Ben!" "You're saying I should rein in the humor?

Stallions," Frank said, "they're fightin' over a girl. - DANIEL'S ESPERANZA

Returning from his flocks, pleased with his ride. Again in the aul appears the bai. His horse goes on with an easy stride, He sits and smiles upon it, hat awry.

Roger left the cricket stumps and they went into the drawing room. Grandpapa, at the first suggestion of reading aloud, had disappeared, taking Patch with him. Grandmama had cleared away the tea. She found her spectacles and the book. It was Black Beauty. Grandmama kept no modern children's books, and this made common ground for the three of them. She read the terrible chapter where the stable lad lets Beauty get overheated and gives him a cold drink and does not put on his blanket. The story was suited to the day. Even Roger listened entranced. And Deborah, watching her grandmother's calm face and hearing her careful voice reading the sentences, thought how strange it was that Grandmama could turn herself into Beauty with such ease. She was a horse, suffering there with pneumonia in the stable, being saved by the wise coachman. After the reading, cricket was anticlimax, but Deborah must keep her bargain. She kept thinking of Black Beauty writing the book. It showed how good the story was, Grandmama said, because no child had ever yet questioned the practical side of it, or posed the picture of a horse with a pen in its hoof. "A modern horse would have a typewriter," thought Deborah, and she began to bowl to Roger, smiling to herself as she did so because of the twentieth-century Beauty clacking with both hoofs at a machine. ("The Pool")

She'll never be all the way tame, just the way she's made ... sorta like you, I imagine.

She simply stared at me with such a loving expression on her face, I felt like I was her foal. Indah reached her head as far as she could around me, to press me to her. I melted. How could I live without this horse? I wrapped my arms around her neck and let my tears flow.

So I’m there, surrounded by all these young and old girls who are obviously in season and I don’t know what to do.” The trained psychologist cleared his throat, his brows raised. “Girls… in season?” he questioned dubiously. “Yeah… and they’re all backing up to me and I just know that if I let them fall pregnant the boss’ll kill me, but I’m stuck.” “Umm… what exactly are we talking about?” “My dream: me holding the teaser and all the clients’ expensive mares-” “Oh! So these are horses. Tell me, what’s a teaser?

Some books have too much tennis. Some books have too much baseball. Some books have too much boxing. Some books have too much horse.

Some men can be good ' horse whisperers ' and many dogs can be wonderful ' man whisperers '.