Horse Quotes

“A woman is at heart – a wild creature.
But the creature itself … that depends on you.
(His wild rabbit – your wild horse)”
― Ranata Suzuki

“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”
― Cassandra Clare, The Bane Chronicles

“Speed doesn't matter, Concentration matters.”
― Rana Suhaib

“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”
― Robert Redford

“The first time someone calls you a horse you punch him on the nose, the second time someone calls you a horse you call him a jerk but the third time someone calls you a horse, well then perhaps it's time to go shopping for a saddle.”
― Schlomo, from Lucky Number Slevin

“Passion is a Horse Given to Us to Discipline.”
― Vineet Raj Kapoor

“My people have a saying which my father often used. A man whose horse is missing will look everywhere even in the roof.”
― Chinua Achebe, Anthills of the Savannah

“Keep a spirited Christian horse and a useful ethical donkey. But don't try to breed a mule.”
― Robert Farrar Capon, Between Noon & Three: Romance, Law & the Outrage of Grace

“Was that love? If so, he couldn't fathom why poets waxed on about it being such a blissful state. As far as he could tell, it was about as blissful as riding an unbroke horse, a bone-rattling endeavor where one held on for dear life, unable to recognize if he was making progress until either the horse quit buckin' or the ground smacked him in the face.”
― Karen Witemeyer, More Than Words Can Say

“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.”
― Jonathan Latimer, Solomon's Vineyard

“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?”
― Christine Meunier, Horse Country: A World of Horses

“You cannot turn a Donkey into a Thoroughbred.”
― Jean-Michel Rene Souche

“Horses are the windows to our souls”
― Horse & Rider Magazine

“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.”
― Abai Kunanbayev

“But now, strange as it seems, a peasant's small, scrawny. light brown nag is harnessed to such a large cart, one of those horses he's seen it often that sometimes strain to pull some huge load of firewood or hay. Especially if the cart has gotten stuck in the mud or a rut. The peasants always whip the horse so terribly, so very painfully, sometimes even across its muzzle and eyes, and he would always feel so sorry, so very sorry to witness it that he would feel like crying, and his mother would always lead him away from the window. Now things are getting extremely boisterous: some very large and extremely drunken peasants in red and blue shirts, their heavy coats slung over their shoulders. come out of the tavern shouting, singing. and playing balalaikas. “Git in. everyone git in!" shouts one peasant, a young lad with a thick neck and a fleshy face, red as a beet, “I'll take ya all. Git in!" But there is a burst of laughter and shouting:

“That ol’ nag ain't good for nothin'!"

“Hey, Mikolka, you must be outta yer head to hitch that ol' mare to yer cart!"

“That poor ol' horse must be twenty if she's a day, lads!"

“Git in, I'll take ya all!" Mikolka shouts again,jumping in first, taking hold of the reins, and standing up straight in the front of the cart. “Matvei went off with the bay," he cries from the cart, “and as for this ol' mare here, lads, she's only breakin' my heart: I don't give a damn ifit kills ’er; she ain't worth her salt. Git in, I tell ya! I'll make 'er gallop! She’ll gallop, all right!" And he takes the whip in his hand, getting ready to thrash the horse with delight.

"What the hell, git in!" laugh several people in the crowd. "You heard 'im, she'll gallop!"

“I bet she ain't galloped in ten years!"

"She will now!"

“Don't pity 'er, lads; everyone, bring yer whips, git ready!" "That's it! Thrash 'er!" They all clamber into Mikolka's cart with guffaws and wisecracks. There are six lads and room for more. They take along a peasant woman, fat and ruddy. She's wearing red calico, a headdress trimmed with beads, and fur slippers; she‘s cracking nuts and cackling. The crowd’s also laughing; as a matter of fact, how could one keep from laughing at the idea of a broken down old mare about to gallop, trying to pull such a heavy load! Two lads in the cart grab their whips to help Mikolka. The shout rings out: “Pull!" The mare strains with all her might, but not only can’t she gallop, she can barely take a step forward; she merely scrapes her hooves, grunts, and cowers from the blows of the three whips raining down on her like hail. Laughter redoubles in the cart and among the crowd, but Mikolka grows angry and in his rage strikes the little mare with more blows, as if he really thinks she’ll be able to gallop. “Take me along, too, lads!" shouts someone from the crowd who’s gotten a taste of the fun.

“Git in! Everyone, git inl" cries Mikolka. “She'll take everyone. I‘ll flog 'er!" And he whips her and whips her again; in his frenzy, he no longer knows what he’s doing.

“Papa, papa," the boy cries to his father. “Papa, what are they doing? Papa, they‘re beating the poor horse!"

“Let's go, let's go!" his father says. “They’re drunk, misbehaving, those fools: let’s go. Don't look!" He tries to lead his son away. but the boy breaks from his father‘s arms; beside himself, he runs toward the horse. But the poor horse is on her last legs. Gasping for breath, she stops, and then tries to pull again, about to drop.

“Beat 'er to death!" cries Mikolka. ”That's what it's come to. I‘ll flog ‘er!"

“Aren't you a Christian. you devil?" shouts one old man from the crowd.

“Just imagine, asking an ol' horse like that to pull such a heavy load,” adds another.

“You‘ll do 'er in!" shouts a third.

“Leave me alone! She’s mine! I can do what I want with 'er! Git in, all of ya! Everyone git in I'm gonna make 'er gallop!”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Crime and Punishment

“If you were called to gallop like the horse, never end up hopping like the frog. Rise up for greatness.”
― Israelmore Ayivor, Become a Better You

“All the carriages filed out in single file but in a fashion that seemed to mean that they were competing against each other. The only sound that could be heard for a while was the pounding of the horses’ hooves and the squeal and groan of the wheels against the road. Their hooves kicked up dirt, creating a storm of dust.
Once the miniature storm and the sound of galloping horses subsided, I could only see one last person. He glared up at me and mouthed, “Next time.” Christopher dug his boots into Dawn’s muscled flank. She reared up and broke into a gallop through the sparse forest, heading for escape. The last trace of them was the particles of floating dust, bright like floating fire.”
― Erica Sehyun Song, Thorns in the Shadow

“We are horse folk, and that means more than we think it does.”
― Elizabeth Carlton, The Royal Rogue

“An English man-at-arms had his helmet split open and his skull with it, so that he rode wavering from the fight, blood pouring down his mail coat. His horse stopped a few paces from the turmoil and the man-at-arms slowly, so slowly, bent forward and then slumped down from his saddle. One foot was trapped in a stirrup as he died but his horse did not seem to notice. It just went on cropping the grass.”
― Bernard Cornwell, The Archer's Tale

“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.”
― Suzanne Selfors, Once Upon A Pet : A Collection of Little Pet Stories

“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!”
― Suzanne Selfors, A Semi-Charming Kind of Life

“Asad waited in one of the end stalls, watching alertly as Kathleen approached. His head lifted, his ears perking forward in recognition. He was a compact gelding with powerful hindquarters, an elegant conformation that afforded both speed and endurance. His coloring was a shade of chestnut so light it appeared golden, his mane and tail flaxen. "There's my boy," Kathleen exclaimed gently, reaching out to him with her palm upward. Asad sniffed at her hand and gave her a welcoming nicker. Lowering his finely modeled head, he moved to the front of the stall. She stroked his nose and forehead, and he reacted with pure gladness, blowing softly and nudging closer.
"I shouldn't have waited so long to see you," she said, overcome with remorse. Clumsily she leaned to kiss the space between the horse's eyes. She felt him nibble delicately at the shoulder of her dress, trying to groom her. A crooked grin twisted her lips. Pushing his head away, she scratched his satiny neck in the way she knew he liked. "I shouldn't have left you alone, my poor boy." Her fingers tangled in the white-blond mane.
She felt the weight of his head come to rest on her shoulder. The trusting gesture caused her throat to cinch around a quick breath.”
― Lisa Kleypas, Cold-Hearted Rake

“A horse that doesn’t set foot on the track is certainly never going to cross the finish line, let alone win the race.”
― Richie Norton

“The Prime Minister’s meaning was clear enough: the Fleet Train was the horse, and the fighting Fleet the cart. They must be kept in their proper order. As the size of the horse was fixed, it was pointless to plan an ambitious cart.”
― John Winton, The forgotten fleet

“The only beast a man wants a woman to have between her legs is himself!”
― Trish Butler, Redway Acres: Helena

“His palace was a tent, his throne a saddle.”
― George R.R. Martin, The World of Ice & Fire: The Untold History of Westeros and the Game of Thrones

“Your mind is like a wild horse that keeps wrecking your life. The same horse can be of immense value and help you win races if you learn how to tame it.”
― Dr Prem Jagyasi

“The hour was late, the beauty around him barbarous. The many scents brought by the air were toxic or sweet, depending on which way the gentle breeze blew. Sometimes the scents made his nostrils smart. He allowed them to embrace him. Joys of a wonderful nature arose in his heart. He loved his horse, its easy amble, the seductive night and the prying moon. God created the world, the wild, the horse, the breeze, man, birds and - love, and His consort at times agreed and at others did not. Gods played games. Even Gods played games. They fought too. Name a game that does not involve discord. He smiled at the thought.”
― Mukta Singh-Zocchi, The Thugs & a Courtesan

“You get what you work for not what you wish for”
― Clinton Anderson

“If you are not willing to learn, no one can help you, if you are determined to learn no one can stop you.”
― Clinton Anderson