I am the Turquoise Woman's Son, On top of Belted Mountain beautiful horses--slim like a weasel! My horse with a hoof like a striped agate, with his fetlock like a fine eagle plume: my horse whose legs are like quick lightning whose body is an eagle-plumed arrow: my horse whose tail is like a trailing black cloud. The Little Holy Wind blows through his hair. My horse with a mane made of short rainbows. My horse with ears made of round corn. My horse with eyes made of big starts. My horse with a head made of mixed waters. My horse with teeth made of white shell. The long rainbow is in his mouth for a bridle and with it I guide him.
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They say Princes learn no art truly, but the art of horsemanship. The reason is, the brave beast is no flatterer. He will throw a prince as soon as his groom.
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I've often said there's nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse.
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Ricky I don't know why we don't get a drink ... sittin inside this place. Bobby I promised Chloe we'd come here Ricky She doesn't even know where the hell she is, Bob. She'd have more fun if we were at Bodners. She could play the triva game like she likes it, or the little racing game thing she does. Bobby She's a little girl, little girl's don't like to go to bars. Ricky We had fun, we went to bars when we were kids ... met all the different people, right ...remember Slimmy
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Auto racing is boring except when a car is going at least 172 miles per hour upside down.
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My beautiful, my beautiful! That standest meekly by, with thy proudly-arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye!
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Civilization is drugs, alcohol, engines of war, prostitution, machines and machine slaves, low wages, bad food, bad taste, prisons, reformatories, lunatic asylums, divorce, perversion, brutal sports, suicides, infanticide, cinema, quackery, demagogy, strikes, lockouts, revolutions, putsches, colonization, electric chairs, guillotines, sabotage, floods, famine, disease, gangsters, money barons, horse racing, fashion shows, poodle dogs, chow dogs, Siamese cats, condoms, peccaries, syphilis, gonorrhea, insanity, neuroses, etc., etc.
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That the use of animal food disposes man to cruel and ferocious action is a fact to which the experience of ages gives ample testimony . . . The barbarous and unfeeling 'sports' (as they are called) of the English - their horse-racing, hunting, shooting, bull and bear baiting, cock-fighting, prize fighting, and the like, all proceed from their immoderate addiction to animal food. Their natural temper is thereby corrupted, and they are in the habitual and hourly commission of crimes against nature, justice, and humanity, from which a feeling and reflective mind, unaccustomed to such a diet, would revolt, but in which they profess to take delight.
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I don't know what the new Ford will be called. Probably something like the 'Ford Untamed Wilderness Adventure.' In the TV commercials, it will be shown splashing through rivers, charging up rocky mountainsides, swinging on vines, diving off cliffs, racing
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A difference of opinion is what makes horse racing and missionaries.
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Everything one does in life, even love, occurs in an express train racing toward death. To smoke opium is to get out of the train while it is still moving. It is to concern oneself with something other than life or death.
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I don't really want to win races like that. That doesn't take a whole bunch of talent to knock a guy out of the way. Racing tight is one thing, but to get a run in the middle of the corner and get the guy's bumper all at once - it is what it is.
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And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking and racing to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in the relative way, but you are older and shorter of breath and one day closer to death
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There are only 3 sports, Bullfighting, Motor Racing and Mountain climbing. All the rest are games.
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There is something about jumping a horse over a fence, something that makes you feel good. Perhaps it's the risk, the gamble. In any event it's a thing I need.
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Competition between footmen gave way during the second half of the 18th century to men racing against time over long distances. 'Pedestrians' (as the walkers were called) could win a very handsome fee for walking dozens -- or even hundreds -- of miles within a proscribed time. Side bets were, of course, very welcome.One of the more popular goals involved covering at least 100 miles in less than 24 hours. Those meeting this goal were (and still are) called Centurions.
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A horse is dangerous at both ends and uncomfortable in the middle.
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Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come.
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Under his spurning feet, the road Like an arrowly alpine river flowed And the landscape sped away behind Like an ocean flying before the wind....
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You were a lord if you had a horse... Far back, far back in our dark soul the horse prances. . . . The horse, the horse! The symbol of surging potency and power of movement, of action, in man.
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I think that that predication unhappily turned out to be correct and one of the things I said was we're racing the clock. Unfortunately, the hurricane beat us,
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Thomas is racing for it, but McCovey is there and can't get his glove to it. That play shows the inexperience, not on Thomas' part, but on the part of Willie McC ... well, not on McCovey's part either.
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Love is like racing across the frozen tundra on a snowmobile which flips over, trapping you underneath. At night, the ice-weasels come.
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Perhaps the single most important element in mastering the techniques and tactics of racing is experience. But once you have the fundamentals, acquiring the experience is a matter of time.
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And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it's sinking. Racing around to come up behind you again. The sun is the same in a relative way but you're older. Shorter of breath and one day closer to death.
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England is a paradise for women and hell for horses; Italy a paradise for horses, hell for women, as the diverb goes.
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Auto racing, bull fighting, and mountain climbing are the only real sports. . . all others are games.
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What do you want to do with the [Communist] Party? A racing stable? What good is it to sharpen a knife every day if you never use it for slici...
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Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra. Suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night the ice weasels come.
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The way money goes so fast these days, they should paint racing stripes on it.
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