Show me your horse and I will tell you what you are.
Riding turns 'I wish' into 'I can'.
For what the horse does under compulsion, as Simon also observes, is done without understanding; and there is no beauty in it either, any more than if one should whip and spur a dancer.
If you have seen nothing but the beauty of their markings and limbs, their true beauty is hidden from you.
Every horse thinks its own pack heaviest.
(June 19, 1608 - August 16, 1661)
The last stroke of midnight dies.All day in the one chairFrom dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have rangedIn rambling talk with an image of air:Vague memories, nothing but memories.
William Butler Yeats
(June 13, 1865 - January 28, 1939)
It so easily could have been Houston or Galveston.
(February 06, 1963 - )
Love is the flower of life, and blossoms unexpectedly and without law, and must be plucked where it is found, and enjoyed for the brief hour of its duration.