Horses Mouth Quotes & Sayings

you can pick what you want from the definition, like picking flowers from a garden — Blue Balliett

I am fond of the sound of horses in the night. The lifting of feet. Stamping. The clicking of their iron shoes against rock. They mouth one anothers withers and rear and squeal and whirl and shuffle and cough and stand and snort. There is the combined rumblings of each individual gut. They sound larger than they are. The air tastes of horses, ripples as though come alive with their good-hearted strength and stamina. — Mark Spragg

What's the point of sea horses? I asked.
The old man stood before them, mouth hung open, as if before his god. — David Vann

You say it like everyone is against the idea just to be jerks. But Mrs. Casnoff, your parents, me ... can you blame any of us for not wanting you to die? — Rachel Hawkins

Is he your very first gingerbread man?'
She nodded.
'You eat him.'
'Eat his head?'
'I always start with the feet,' Edie suggested.
'But if I eat him, he'll be dead.'
'No, he'll be in your tummy,' Layla said. 'There's a difference.'
'I think I'd better eat his head first,' Susannah said ... 'That way he won't know what's happening to him.'
'That's a very kind thought,' Layla approved. — Eloisa James

Well, Arminius, I can't say you're the most natural horseman I've ever seen.'
Arminius sneered down at the men standing around him, then leaned out of the saddle and put a sausage sized finger in Double-Pay Silus's face.
'Just so we're clear, I hate horses. Tribune Scaurus says I ride like a mule tender with bleeding piles, and that I have all the skill in the saddle of a sack full of shit. And despite that, before you open your mouth, I'm one of your thirty-one horsemen and that's official. You don't like it, I don't like it, but the tribune couldn't give a toss what either of us think. Wherever Centurion Corvus goes, I go. So there it is. — Anthony Riches

That is the way a white man remembers a battle. So many soldiers here, so many there. Such a captain here. Such a lieutenant there. This colonel in one place. That major in another. The horses precisely here, the cannon exactly there. But not an Indian. An Indian remembers where his mother fell bayoneted, or his little brother had his skull smashed, or his big sister cried for mercy and was shot in the mouth. — Will Henry

Your heart like a hawk-mouth in the sun, your heart like a ship on an atoll, your heart like a compass needle driven mad by a little piece of lead, like washing drying in the wind, like a whining of horses, like seed thrown to the birds, like an evening paper one has finished reading! Your heart is a charade that the whole world has guessed. — Louis Aragon

He was in a strange, badly lit room, wearing even stranger clothes, getting an earful from an unknown woman, in a language that he could and couldn't exactly place in a very disturbing way.
These were not his memories. — Angelo Tsanatelis

With flowing tail and flying mane,
Wide nostrils never stretched by pain,
Mouth bloodless to bit or rein,
And feet that iron never shod,
And flanks unscar'd by spur or rod,
A thousand horses - the wild - the free -
Like waves that follow o'er the sea,
Came thickly thundering on. — Lord Byron

Jacey's eyes hardened. She did not appreciate reality coming along and snapping her thong. — Sarah-Kate Lynch

What are your pleasures and pursuits, Lord Moncrieffe?" Miss Eversea asked too brightly, when the silence had gone on for more than was strictly comfortable or polite.
That creaky conversation lubricant. It irritated him again that she was humoring him.
"Well, I'm partial to whores."
Her head whipped toward him like a weather-vane in a hurricane. Her eyes, he noted, were enormous, and such a dark blue they were nearly purple. Her mouth dropped, and the lower lip was quivering with shock or ... or ...
"Whor ... whores ... ?" She choked out the word as if she'd just inhaled it like bad cigar smoke.
He widened his own eyes with alarm, recoiling slightly.
"I ... I beg your pardon - Horses. Honestly, Miss Eversea," he stammered. "I do wonder what you think of me if that's what you heard. — Julie Anne Long

There it was, a sign above a shop that said 221B BAKER STREET. My mouth hung open. I looked around at the ordinary street and the white-painted buildings, looking clean in the morning rain. Where were the fog, the streetlights, the gray atmosphere? The horses pulling carriages, bringing troubled clients to Watson and Holmes? I had to admit I had been impressed with Big Ben and all, but for a kid who had devoured the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, this was really something. I was on Baker Street, driving by the rooms of Holmes and Watson! I sort of wished it were all in black and white and gray, like in the movies. — James R. Benn

Still doing your best to ruin the horses, I see.'
Katsa froze. The voice came from above rather than behind, and it didn't sound quite like Skye. She turned.
'I though it was supposed to be impossible to sneak up on you. Eyes of a hawk and ears of a wolf and all that,' he said- and there, he was there, standing straight, eyes glimmering, mouth twitching, and the path he'd plowed through the snow stretching behind him. Katsa cried out and ran, tackling Po so hard that he fell back into the snow and she on top of him. And he laughed, and held her tight, and she was crying; and then Bitterblue came and threw herself squealing on top of them. — Kristin Cashore

No. I'm afraid that I'll find out that I don't have any boundaries at all when it comes to you. — Lorelei James

Do you deny that you want me, Miranda?" he whispered seductively. His gaze dropped to her mouth. Was he going to kiss her? Her nerves coiled tighter, her anticipation ramping up another notch. "Isn't that the real reason you came out here with me?" His mouth hovered inches from hers, his hot, humid breath inciting tiny ripples down her spine. "If I can't hear it from your lips, I'll make your body speak. — Victoria Vane

You have noticed, I hope, that man is the only amateur animal; all the other are professionals. — C.S. Lewis

Chris just watches, but he can't keep his mouth shut for long. Excellent, everyone is serving me. I'm glad you guys have finally figured out how it should be ... now you just need to convince the world. — Kate Sherwood

You're hopeless dumb
if you blindly tweet rumours
and get ripped on-line. — Ibnu Din Assingkiri

I was raised to assume that wealth and rank and privilege would be mine by right," he said painfully. "Through a combination of bad luck and bad judgment, most of those assumptions were beaten out of me. While other young gentlemen raced horses and chased opera dancers, I learned that the world grants no rights beyond the chance to struggle for survival." His mouth twisted. "In the army I was flogged, wore rags, and damned near starved to death. I was forced to face every flaw and weakness in myself, and to learn the harsh lesson that men born to whores and raised in the gutter could be stronger, braver, and more honorable than I — Mary Jo Putney

In [man's] mouth is ever the bittersweet taste of life and death, unknown to the trees. Without respite he is dragged by the two wild horses, memory and hope; and he is tormented by a secret that he can never tell. — Hope Mirrlees

Even four harnessed horses cannot bring imprudent words back into the mouth. — Confucius

Here I want to see those men of hard voice.
Those that break horses and dominate rivers;
those men of sonorous skeleton who sing
with a mouth full of sun and flint. — Federico Garcia Lorca

When I hear somebody talk about a horse or cow being stupid; I figure it's a sure sign that the animal has somehow outfoxed them — Tom Dorrance

Everyone Regenerates, different ways one regenerates by watching horror and thinking of the good side. Other cry, but in the end all reliase that there isn't purpose of thinking this topic, there isn't purpose to cry. Somebody have died and that's all and It can't be changed! — Deyth Banger

Play with a foole at home, and he will play with you in the market. — George Herbert

It continues to startle me, the range of political ideologies that are compatible with enthusiasm for spaceflight. Tax-and-spend liberals of the Great Society stripe, obviously - but also spending-slashing Tea Partiers, hippie peaceniks, fierce libertarians, military loyalists, and apathetics of every shade. So very many of us seem to feel that a love of human spaceflight is reconcilable with our beliefs, and we can all explain why. — Margaret Lazarus Dean

One can hardly appreciate how academia has perverted its highest tasks and "ideals" without pondering long and hard the implications of Jacques Barzun's House of Intellect and its Hegelian/Bergsonian contrast between rigidified "intellect" and always-growing "intelligence." This fundamentally Hegelian distinction, needless to say, cuts to the quick of the contrast between Platonic and Aristotelian forms of philosophy. — Kenny Smith

Tears glinted in her eyes. "I want no secrets between us, Silas."
"No secrets," he echoed, his mouth near the gentle curve of her ear. "Then you should know I can hardly breathe for thinking of you. You're the most maddening lass I've ever known, and every day without you near is an agony to me." Taking her face between his hands, he moved to kiss her, but the sound of approaching horses gave him pause. — Laura Frantz

A team of horses cannot overtake a word that has left the mouth. — Wu Cheng'en

She studied his profile, the high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, strong, masculine nose, and full, sensuous mouth, fixing on the last, her insides quivering at the thought of those soft and knowing lips ... — Victoria Vane

A landscape glittered behind her voice. There were icicles in it and savage fields of ice, great storms boiling over a flat countryside striped with white rails - a chessboard beneath a storm. Horses were stretched forever at the gallop. Tiny men in silk were brave beyond bearing and sat on the horses like embryos with their knees in their mouths. The gorgeous names of horses were cried from mouth to mouth and circulated in a steam of fame. Lottery, The Hermit, the great mare Sceptre; the glorious ancestress Pocahontas, whose blood ran down like time into her flying children; Easter Hero, the Lamb, that pony stallion. — Enid Bagnold

A corner of his mouth quirked up. "I play pool. Shoot hoops sometimes too. Any other sport you're curious about?"
"Hockey? Polo?"
"Simultaneously. Trick is to keep the horses on their skates. — Devon Monk