I'd like to do something involving jazz. But books are how I earn my living, and I'd like to stay with the horse I rode in on.
I jumped horses over big dangerous fences in competition. And got very, very good at it, at quite a high level. And I realized long since that, yeah, it's the same thing that appeals to me about it. You can't think about anything else, in either case; jumping horses in competition, show jumping, or flying an airplane, for whatever purpose.
I'll miss it until the day I die, and I'm convinced to this day that I can get on a horse and jump a course of fences satisfactorily. It doesn't leave you.
Lately, I've discovered the Hellenistic bronzes. I'd never really thought about them much, but then there was this marvelous exhibition - many of them Roman, some of them Greek, all kinds of wonderful standing figures or heads or horses. It all suddenly became a passion of mine. I finally got to see that exhibition, which led to the idea of bringing up the statue in the film.
He walked with long, ungraceful strides, enormous feet adding to the spectacle, and he sat a horse as if leaning into a strong wind.
It was dirty and hot, and you're on a horse, all day. It was physical work, but there wasn't one of us - cast or crew - who didn't have a smile on our face. Even when it got real hard and tempers would rise because things would get difficult and the day would get late, we all loved the job and loved doing it. When you finished that day of work, everyone was looking around and going, "Yeah, that was a good day, man."
A real racehorse should have a head like a lady and the behind like a cook.
Anybody doesn't like these pitchers don't like potry, see? Anybody don't like potry go home see television shots of big hatted cowboys being tolerated by kind horses. Robert Frank, Swiss, unobtrusive, nice, with that little camera that he raises and snaps with one hand he sucked a sad poem right out of America onto film, taking rank among the poets of the world. To Robert Frank I now give this message: You got eyes.
That's the problem with white horses. You have to pay for them yourself or you'll always be using someone else's reins.
You think you know what is just and what is not. I understand. We all think we know." I had no doubt, myself, then, that at each moment each one of us, man, woman, child, perhaps even the poor old horse turning the mill-wheel, knew what was just: all creatures come into the world bringing with them the memory of justice. "But we live in a world of laws," I said to my poor prisoner, "a world of the second-best. There is nothing we can do about that. We are fallen creatures. All we can do is to uphold the laws, all of us, without allowing the memory of justice to fade.
Life is a gift horse in my opinion.
You have to list all your special skills on a form when you get an agent. There's fencing, stage combat, horse riding, motorbike riding, Spanish, French, German, whatever. I just ticked everything. I talk about 10 languages according to that form. I even ticked the extreme sports box.
There's not a person in Virginia won't try to sell you a horse. It's in 'em.
Virginians were nice, they confided to each other, if caught singly. Two Virginians, of course, talked horses.
I grew up around animals [seven horses, dogs and now a pet goldfish named Leila] and I'm rebelling against them not having a natural existence.
The best bet for the horses would be to stop betting on the Derby and other horse races, and to stop breeding, racing and killing thoroughbreds altogether
If a girl gets sexual pleasure from riding a horse, does the horse suffer? If not, who cares? If you French kiss your dog and he or she thinks it's great, is it wrong? We believe all exploitation and abuse is wrong. If it isn't exploitation and abuse, it may not be wrong.
Having a fling with you doesn't appeal to me. You're handsome, but you're too inexperienced to be good in bed. Having ridden many horses doesn't make you a good rider; it just proves that you can't recognize a good one or don't know how to keep her.
Imagine a master painting that's never finished...when you can only build on previous work, you become limited by what you can paint...If you are in the midst of painting a forest full of tall tress and hanging vines, it is rather difficult to wake up the next day and suddenly turn that paining into the beach and ocean...We have to treat each day like a black canvas on which we can paint. Yesterday might have been paining flowers, but today you can paint cars or horses. A new day represents a chance for renewal.
To 'coach' comes from the physical horse-and-buggy coach, referring to something that gets someone from where they are now to where they want to be. You help someone get from where they are to where they want to be.
The Amish communities of Pennsylvania, despite the retro image of horse-drawn buggies and straw hats, have long been engaged in a productive debate about the consequences of technology.
The lazy ox wishes for horse-trappings, and the steed wishes to plough. [Lat., Optat ephippia bos piger, optat arare caballus.]
The ear of the bridled horse is in the mouth.
The ox longs for the gaudy trappings of the horse; the lazy pack-horse would fain plough. [We envy the position of others, dissatisfied with our own.]
When an intelligent man reaches the point of inviting self-explanation and offers surrendering the key to his heart, he is assuredly riding a drunken horse.