Saddles For Horses Quotes & Sayings

Hee Haw was probably my biggest exposure to live music at a young age, because there wasn't any live music around my town and no one in my family played instruments. — Alan Jackson

As they climbed into their saddles, Myron bowed his head and muttered a soft prayer.
"There," Hadrian told Royce, "we've got Maribor on our side. Now you can relax."
"Actually," Myron said sheepishly, "I was praying for the horses. But I will pray for you as well," he added hastily. — Michael J. Sullivan

Delay gratification is what will give us patience and long suffering. — Sunday Adelaja

When man become fully compassionate, saddles of the horses will be fully empty! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

They pulled the wet saddles off the horses and hobbled them and walked off in separate directions through the chaparral to stand spraddle legged clutching their knees and vomiting. The browsing horses jerked their heads up. It was no sound they'd ever heard before. In the grey twilight those retchings seemed to echo like the calls of some rude provisional species loosed upon that waste. A thing smirking deep in the eyes of grace itself like a gorgon in an autumn pool. — Cormac McCarthy

The silence holds with its gloved hand the wild hawk of the mind. — R.S. Thomas

Again the early-morning sun was generous with it's warmth. All the sounds dear to a horseman were around me-the snort of the horses as they cleared their throats, the gentle swish of their tails, the tinkle of irons as we flung the saddles over their backs-little sounds of no importance, but they stay in the unconscious library of memory. — Wynford Vaughan-Thomas

Knights burned in their saddles as the hair and hide and harness of their horses went up in flames. — George R R Martin

I love weird man, when you get to do something that you don't necessarily get to do in real life, play characters that are a little bit outlandish. — David Koechner

The men rode into Beaver Run like two horsemen of the apocalypse, justice on a white horse and war on a red. The few citizens walking through the muddy streets hurried to get out of their path, while those milling on the plank walkways stared as the duo passed.
Danger.
Long and lean, both sat their saddles with the ease of men accustomed to mastering both the beasts beneath them and the world around them. Their dusters hung to the tops of their boots and were covered in trail dust. Their hats, pulled low, cast shadows over their faces. Rifles were mounted to their horses' saddles and each man had a gun strapped to his thigh. — Suzanne Ferrell

Digitisation was supposed to lead to a great democratisation of access to creative work. — Nick Harkaway

Yeah, but a real nigga. A real man, when he finds his queen, he don't fuck that up. — Alex Richardson

It's the show jumpers that I find the most interesting to watch. Small kids being taken around low courses by calm, professional ponies. Teenage riders on fit ponies with their show jackets slung over the front of their saddles and their feet dangling out of their stirrups, who call out greetings to Tabby as they ride past. All different shapes and sizes of horses, because all that really matters in show jumping is their ability to clear a jump. Thoroughbreds with weedy necks and tight martingales, clunky Roman-nosed horses that look like they'll never be able to lift themselves off the ground, big Warmbloods being held back in gag bits, their shoulders slick with sweat. — Kate Lattey

I was just a very torn child, very wounded in so many areas, with no family support. I happened to the be the fifth child of my family. So everybody was already grown and had left home already. — Djimon Hounsou

Every Hungarian wishes to die an elegant gentleman — Igor Janke

The truth was, the difference between a studio photographer and a photojournalist was the same as the difference between a political cartoonist and an abstract painter; the only thing the two had in common was the blank page. — Lynsey Addario

The crew on 'Varsity Blues' was phenomenal. — Ron Lester

The storm front towered above them and the wind was cool on their sweating faces. They slumped bleary-eyed in their saddles and looked at one another. Shrouded in the black thunderheads the distant lightning glowed mutely like welding seen through foundry smoke. As if repairs were under way at some flawed place in the iron dark of the world. — Cormac McCarthy

Like a long sighing of wind in trees it begins, then they sweep into sight, borne now upon a cloud of phantom dust. They rush past, forwardleaning in the saddles, with brandished arms, beneath whipping ribbons from slanted and eager lances; with tumult and soundless yelling they sweep past like a tide whose crest is jagged with the wild heads of horses and the brandished arms of men like the crater of the world in explosion. — William Faulkner