The riding of young horses is an excellent nerve tonic.
I guess all songs is folk songs. I never heard no horse sing them.
I raised you to be a thoroughbred. When thoroughbreds run, they wear blinders to keep their eyes focused straight ahead with no distractions, no other horses. They hear the crowd, but they don’t listen. They just run their own race. That’s what you have to do. Don’t listen to anyone comparing you to me or to anyone else. You just run your own race.
The great cowboys are the ones with the biggest hearts.
A horse is freedom so indominable that it becomes useless to imprison it to serve man: it lets itself be domesticated, but with a simple, rebellious toss of the head-shaking its mane like an abundance of free-flowing hair-it shows that its inner nature is always wild, translucent and free.
Machinery may make for efficiency and a standardisation of life, but horse love is a bond of freemasonry which unites the entire race.
We dominate a horse by mind over matter. We could never do it by brute strength.
We've got horse property and there's other stuff to do. Like, four wheel driving, we barbeque, drink beers, sit around and play guitars and have a merry 'ol time
When training young horses "There are many types of bits for many different disciplines, but the severity of ALL bits lies in the hands holding them."
Ascot is so exclusive that it is the only racecourse in the world where the horses own the people.
When you start trying to figure out what you're the best at, that's when you become delusional because you start to believe that. [you're the best] I'd rather continue to ride that mule than to ride the cocky horse. You see people spin out of control like that all the time. Those are the most tragic stories – the most gifted people who start to believe that it's really ALL THEM. It's not all you. It can't be all you. Just like you need air to fly a kite. It's not the KITE – it's the AIR.
There are only two classes in good society in England: the equestrian classes and the neurotic classes.
I was in Las Vegas when the Nogueira brothers first touched down in America. There was a bus, this is a true story. There was a bus that pulled up to a red light, and Little Nog tried to feed it a carrot, while Big Nog was petting it. He thought it was a horse. This really happened. He tried to feed a bus a carrot, and now you're telling me this country has computers? I didn't know that.
Beauty, delicacy and position-these were the foundations of courtly equestrianism
Ask often, be content of little, reward always.
The horse has such a docile nature, that he would always rather do right the wrong, if he can only be taught to distinguish one from the other.
...his hoofbeats fall like rain, over and over again.
On horseback he seemed to require as many hands as a Hindu god, at least four for clutching the reins, and two more for patting the horse soothingly on the neck.
Everyone says social media is a unicorn, but maybe it’s just a horse?
The ability and intelligence is remarkable...Prince was able to walk the length of the furrow, between the growing potatoes, and when he was done you might never guess that he passed that way, so sure and careful was every footfall.
An extra pressure, a silent rebuke, an unseen praising, a firm correction: all these passed between us as through telegraph wires.
When he stood trembling with fear before the captor, bruised from falls by the restrictive rope, made submissive by choking, clogs, cuts and starvation, he had lost what made him so beautiful and free....One out of every three mustangs captured in south west Texas was expected to die before they were tamed. The process often broke the spirits of the other two.
I didn't squawk about the steak, dear. I merely said I didn't see that old horse that used to be tethered outside here.
That devilish Iron Horse, whose ear-rending neigh is heard throughout the town, has muddied the Boiling Spring with his foot, and he it is that has browsed off all the woods on Walden shore, that Trojan horse, with a thousand men in his belly, introduced by mercenary Greeks! Where is the country's champion, the Moore of Moore Hall, to meet him at the Deep Cut and thrust an avenging lance between the ribs of the bloated pest?
I'm hostile to men, I'm hostile to women, I'm hostile to cats, to poor cockroaches, I'm afraid of horses.
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