The hippogriff took off into the air. . . . He and his rider became smaller and smaller as Harry gazed after them. . . then a cloud drifted across the moon. . . . They were gone.
Guilt is a tireless horse. Grief ages into sorrow, and sorrow is an enduring rider.
A horse doesn't know whether the rider on his back wears a dress or pants away from the track.
The secret to being a rider in the hippodrome wasn't that you must be agile, or that you must be good with horses. . . It was that you must hide inside your costume a little of a killer's heart.
I have some shorter stories coming out in other books early next year. I might be pitching a re-vamp of Ghost Rider in the spring. We'll see.
In the partnership between ourselves and the horse there must be one ruling spirit, and that one must be the rider.
I grew up as a horseback rider and a volleyball player so honestly when I got a gym membership in New York, I thought I was going to die.
And in me too the wave rises. It swells; it arches its back. I am aware once more of a new desire, something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back. What enemy do we now perceive advancing against us, you whom I ride now, as we stand pawing this stretch of pavement? It is death. Death is the enemy. It is death against whom I ride with my spear couched and my hair flying back like a young man's, like Percival's, when he galloped in India. I strike spurs into my horse. Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!
Every time the rider forgets to regulate the cadence, the horse begins to take control.
I am in Ghost Rider but I'm not sure when it's coming out.
Boy, you're like a horse. Just now sated with seed, You've come back to my stable, Yearning for a good rider, fine meadow, An icy spring, shady groves.
The four horsemen of the prairie are tornado, locust, drought, and fire, and the greatest of these is fire, a rider with two faces because for everything taken, it makes a return in equal measure.
Grace is so great an adornment for a rider, and at the same time so important a means to the knowledge of all that which is necessary for persons aspiring to become riders, that such persons should willingly sped the time required to obtain that quality at the outside of their endeavors.
Your name?"The movements of the man's mouth didn't quite match what he was saying, so seeing him speak was a bit like watching a badly dubbed film. "Alex Gardiner," Alex said. "Your real name?" "I just told you. " "You lied. Your real name is Alex Rider. " "Why ask if you think you know?
Sooner or later a rider will emerge who will win more Tours. In every sport we have seen how the records eventually get broken and cycling is no exception.
Will is to grace as the horse is to the rider.
I'm not a social rider. Strictly professional.
Time is the rider that breaks youth.
In fact my son subscribes to Pro Bull Rider magazine.
The mind is divided, like a rider on an elephant, and the rider’s job is to serve the elephant. The rider is our conscious reasoning-the stream of words and images of which we are fully aware. The elephant is the other 99 percent of mental processes-the ones that occur outside of awareness but that actually govern most of our behavior.
