Elyne Mitchell Quotes & Sayings

All the love of the high, wild places, all the amazing joy in being alive sounded in his voice — Elyne Mitchell

Spring comes to the Australian Alps like an invisible spirit. There is not the tremendous surge of upthrust life that there is in the lowland valleys, and no wild flowers bloom in the snow mountains till the early summer, but there is an immense stirring of excitement. A bright red and blue lowrie flits through the trees; snow thaws, and the streams become full of foaming water; the grey, flattened grass grows upwards again and becomes greener; wild horses start to lose their winter coats and find new energy; wombats sit, round and fat, blinking in the evening sunshine; at night there is the cry of a dingo to its mate. — Elyne Mitchell

Dreams were dreams; only one facet of what might be the truth of the world — Elyne Mitchell

The oncoming night was filled with the mystery of unknown places and of distance, of things that happened long ago and happenings yet to com — Elyne Mitchell

There grew up around the campfires stories of a great silver stallion seen galloping over wind-packed snow way up on the Ramshead Range; of a ghost horse that drank at the Crackenback River; of a horse that all men thought was dead appearing in a blizzard at Dead Horse hut and vanishing again; of the wild stallion cry that could only be Thowra's. But no man knew where the son of Bel Bel roamed — Elyne Mitchell

I? I am the wind,' said Thowra. 'I come, I pass, and I am gone.' The strange feathers moved up and down, the strange voice said tartly: 'And are your sons the same?' 'My son is the lightning that strikes through the black night. My grandson is light that pierces the dark sky at dawning.' 'Ah,' said the first emu, 'and we know your daughter is the snow that falls softly from above and clothes the world in white. You want but the rainbow - that is and was and never will be, and is yet the promise of life - and the glittering ice which is there and is gone: then you and your family will possess all magic. — Elyne Mitchell

Beauty such as theirs was something with which one lived joyously - racing with the wind, with storm and snow, dancing in the frost or among the golden wattles, galloping, galloping in the spring sun. Life might be dangerous, with beauty that was so difficult to hide, but life was always and ever had been very, very good — Elyne Mitchell

Here, also, the future was cried aloud by the wind through the rocks, so that all those who heard would shiver, and then the liquid spring song of the thrush would make all the beauty of moonlight and sunlight blend together, making it true, so true, that happiness must come again — Elyne Mitchell

There was some rhythm, some ecstasy in this dance of flight that expressed the fact that happiness which touches depths and rises beyond physical confines is as old as consciousness, yet ever renewed, and is like the glorying flight of the birds — Elyne Mitchell

Life and summer are fleeting,' sang the bird. 'Snow and dark, and the winter comes. Nothing remains the same. — Elyne Mitchell

For God took a handful of blizzard snow, blew on it and created the horse. — Elyne Mitchell

Just then, down through the last glimmer of twilight, stepping high and free, like a cloud, a moth, a ghost in the shape of a horse - came the Silver Stallion. Wild, beautiful, and free as the wind he came, from one kingdom to another, Thowra — Elyne Mitchell

A long shaft of light came down from the sun behind the clouds and fell on the rearing, striking horses so that Thowra was the glittering foam on a waterfall, was quicksilver held for a dazzling moment in the shape of a horse, but a horse that was never still — Elyne Mitchell

Legends of the Silver Stallion had been told for years now, whenever mountain stockmen met round the campfires or on the winding hill tracks. Songs were sung about him to the cattle and both songs and tales had become even stranger since his supposed death when he vanished through the wind and the night over a great cliff. Tales kept cropping up of a ghost horse seen, or imagined, roaming over the mountains at night, of stockmen waking in a hut at midnight, hearing the tremendous stallion's cry which could only be Thowra's — Elyne Mitchell

Long miles of snow and mountains spun out behind him, and his hooves scattered stardust or snow crystals. He went bounding on and on, right on the spine of the world, thrust out against the night sky — Elyne Mitchell