Raise up your glasses against evil forces; Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.
We're wild horses. We're going to eat your food, knock down your tent and poop on your shoes. We're protected by federal law, just like Richard Nixon.
A boy is a long time before he knows his alphabet, longer before he has learned to spell, and perhaps several years before he can read distinctly; and yet there are some people who, as soon as they get on a horse, entirely undressed and untaught, fancy that by beating and spurring they will make him a dressed horse in one morning only. I would fain ask such stupid people whether by beating a boy they would teach him to read without first showing him the alphabet? Sure, they would beat him to death, before they would make him read.
Where do thoroughbreds go after they lose one too many races, throw one too many riders, or develop a limp? Many thousands of thoroughbreds end up being slaughtered for horse meat. The unpleasant truth is horse meat is eaten in Europe and Asia.
My love of horses began in College Park, with me and 10 friends on two couches and a keg of beer in the back of a truck, heading to Pimlico at 6 A. M. to mark our place in the middle of the Preakness infield, where we never saw a horse run.
The horse is the only animal into which one can bang nails.
Words are as beautiful as wind horses, and sometimes as difficult to corral.
I'm a dark horse, running on a dark race course
There is something in the human psyche that there is a connection between horses and humans, a real special kind of a thing, and I guess it’s always been there. I hope it will always be there, I hope we don’t evolve past that.
The country has gone sane and got back to horses.
Every time you interact with a horse, you are teaching the horse.
Most people think of a feel as when you touch something or someone and what it feels like to your fingers but, a feel can have a thousand different definitions. Sometimes feel is a mental thing. Sometimes feel can happen clear ‘cross the arena. Sort of an invitation from the horse to come to you.
I reached a point towards the end on the old heart where I had trouble getting out of a chair. All I wanted to do was get out of bed in the morning and walk to my office and sit back down in the chair. Now I throw 50 pound bags of horse feed in the back of my pickup truck and I don't even think about it. I'm back doing those things.
The Spanish wine, my God, it is foul, catpiss is champagne compared, this is the sulphurous urination of some aged horse.
Trust not the horse, O Trojans. Be it what it may, I fear the Grecians even when they offer gifts.
I realized that searching for a mentor has become the professional equivalent of waiting for Prince Charming. We all grew up on the fairy tale "Seeping Beauty," which instructs young women that if they just wait for their prince to arrive, they will be kissed and whisked away on a white horse to live happily ever after. Now young women are told that if they can just find the right mentor, they will be pushed up the ladder and whisked away to the corner office to live happily ever after. Once again, we are teaching women to be too dependent on others.
I did [Henrik] Ibsen and [Anton] Chekhov for years. Obviously I didn't get the kind of recognition I have now. Somebody once told me, "You ride the horse the direction it's going. "
Show me who your friends are, and I will tell you what you are.
Words were one of the most powerful forces known— or unknown— to man. The Most High had created this world with His words. And humans, who had been fashioned in His image, could direct the entire course of their lives with their words, their mouths as the rudder on a ship, as the bridle on a horse. They produced with their words. They destroyed with their words.
I just look like someone with a long face. Not just A. P. McCoy himself, but some of the horses he rides.