Equestrian Horse Quotes

Yes. Reyn is our resident horse master. He has an excellent seat." I grinned. "I've noticed." Reyn's face tightened and Nell flushed, looking embarrassed. "It's an equestrian term." "Really? I thought you were talking about his ass.

As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block the smell. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear's. I tried to talk to him in my mind. I can do that with most horses. Hi, I told him. I'm going to clean your stables. Won't that be great? Yes! The horse said. Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood! But I'm Poseidon's son, I protested. He created horses. Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, not this time. Yes! The horse agreed enthusiastically. Poseidon can come in, too! We will eat you both! Seafood! Seafood! The other horses chimed in as they waded through the field.

There is a lot of folklore about equestrian statues, especially the ones with riders on them. There is said to be a code in the number and placement of the horse's hooves: If one of the horse's hooves is in the air, the rider was wounded in battle; two legs in the air means that the rider was killed in battle; three legs in the air indicates that the rider got lost on the way to the battle; and four legs in the air means that the sculptor was very, very clever. Five legs in the air means that there's probably at least one other horse standing behind the horse you're looking at; and the rider lying on the ground with his horse lying on top of him with all four legs in the air means that the rider was either a very incompetent horseman or owned a very bad-tempered horse.

take a deep breath. Keep your body fully in the present and your mind in the recent future. Don't let the past get in your way.

I lost hope when I saw the horses’ teeth. As I got closer to the fence, I held my shirt over my nose to block the smell. One stallion waded through the muck and whinnied angrily at me. He bared his teeth, which were pointed like a bear’s. I tried to talk to him in my mind. I can do that with most horses. Hi, I told him. I’m going to clean your stables. Won’t that be great? Yes! The horse said. Come inside! Eat you! Tasty half-blood! But I’m Poseidon’s son, I protested. He created horses. Usually this gets me VIP treatment in the equestrian world, but not this time. Yes! The horse agreed enthusiastically. Poseidon can come in, too! We will eat you both! Seafood!

G took another gulp, and thought about the best way to break the equestrian news. My dear, you know those four-legged majestical beasts of the land? Well, you married one! No. That could not be the right approach. My sweet, have you ever had a difficult time deciding between man or beast? Well, now you don’t have to! Again, he thought better of this tactic. Sweet lady, there are those of us who sleep lying down, and those of us who sleep standing up. I can do both. No. You know how some men claim to have another, perhaps hairier side? Have you ever cursed the fact that your loved one has just the two legs?Did you know that horses have incredible balance? Hey! What’s that over there? And then he would gallop away.

Why do you like show jumping?" "... Beauty and excitement. The elements of trust, talent, training, love, and danger make show jumping a thrilling and aesthetic experience. It's really the ultimate test of two nervous systems--the kinetic transfer of the rider's muscle to the horse's muscle enables them to clear those jumps. And there's nothing like it--horse and rider forming an arc of beauty, efficiency, and power, like a double helix." "DNA," "Yes, DNA, the code to life.

If I've learned anything over the years, it's that horses do listen to you. They may not have a clue what you're saying, but they know the tone in which you say it. I'll sing to horses so hooked on their own nerves they're ready to climb into the sky, and sometimes it's one of the only things that keep them on the ground.

And I learned this long ago, that sweet freedom can be found in the middle of a meadow, upon the back of a faithful mare. Careless and wild we both shall be, on our ride across familiar fields, with steps that blend into the earth below.

Riding is the step-by-step seduction of the horse.

I don't usually drink alcohol around my horses. They are all the buzz I need," she said, eyeing me carefully.

You can make a strong case that every serious equestrian is a little unhinged.

They mounted, pistols in hand, saps of rawhide and riverrock looped about their wrists like the implements of some primitive equestrian game. Glanton looked back at them and then nudged forth his horse.

It has been years since I've ridden a horse, and in all of human history, how many have graced the back of such a terrible prize as this? I fear disgracing this king of horses more than I do the coming violence.

I was disappointed when she suddenly looked away, bashful. It surprised me. Madison occurred to me as so cool and confident. This was her private space though, likely the place she was most herself, no facade, no way she had to be, just a girl with her horses. This was not the kind of place or girl that rodeo boys got to be in or near. Yet here I was, standing toe-to-toe with the goddess in her most private of cowgirl places.

Son of a beast tried to bite me when I turned my back to the billets!"... Nostrils flaring and ears pinned, the grey repeated the offense. "He wants another go at it. Be a sport ol' man!" Robert chortled. The indignant Scotsman threw the reins in his face, tromping off to collect the major's horse. "I wonder was it reward or punishment Winthrop had in mind in allowing you to keep that brute?" Drake innocently inquired. "He only eats Scotsman," Robert quipped.

Marta Jolicoeur: We all learned how to ride from George and had wonderful riding careers but more than that, George taught us how to be successful in life...George had us all sized up. He used to tell me that I'm a worrier and he was right! I used to get rally nervous in the ring when I was about fifteen, and he made me go around the ring, reciting out loud, 'I know I'm going to see a distance. It might be a little short or a little long, but I know I'm going to see something.' I would have to say it loud over and over again on course...

Life isn't convenient, Devon. It's rather messy. It's a series of emotions tied together on this tightrope we walk with others. People don't always have the same thoughts or paths or shared aspirations. Sometimes the best things we can do are to just wait ... or listen ... or look for signs. Wait for him. He will return.

Katie Prudent: One of the greatest things about those times was that everything he [George Morris] taught us in the equitation had form with meaningful function. Your straight back was for strength, and your heels were your anchor. Everything he taught us made so much sense and that knowledge translated from equitation to the jumpers.

Opening the lid, I looked down at the gleaming belt buckle and rubbed my thumb over the engraved word 'Champion'. Realizing that right then I actually felt like one, I dropped my knee in the dirt, pulled my cowboy hat from my head, put it to my chest, raised a hand to my forehead and thanked the heavens for a job well done, a clean, safe ride and for the woman waiting for me in the stands.

How do you find your mount, Miss de Lacy?” Amy found it a slug. It was clear Rowanford had taken her caution too seriously. This horse would be ideal for a non-equestrian grandmother. “I feel very safe,” she said. “Excellent. I shall take good care of you, Miss de Lacy. Have no fear.” Amy sighed and wished there was a convenient piece of furniture to heft to prove she was not as fragile as she appeared.

is a lot of folklore about equestrian statues, especially the ones with riders on them. There is said to be a code in the number and placement of the horse’s hooves: If one of the horse’s hooves is in the air, the rider was wounded in battle; two legs in the air means that the rider was killed in battle; three legs in the air indicates that the rider got lost on the way to the battle; and four legs in the air means that the sculptor was very, very clever. Five legs in the air means that there’s probably at least one other horse standing behind the horse you’re looking at; and the rider lying on the ground with his horse lying on top of him with all four legs in the air means that the rider was either a very incompetent horseman or owned a very bad-tempered horse.

Whenever Spirit used to show me a horse, it usually meant that someone liked horses, was an equestrian, or bet the horses. But one day, I went through all the meanings with a client, and when he didn’t connect with any of them, Spirit showed me the strangest thing—an outline of New Jersey. So just like that, horses also began to symbolize the Garden State. Why? Beats me, but if it works for Spirit, it works for me. I went through the same process with oatmeal. It was always a symbol that meant someone liked to eat the gloppy cereal—obvious enough. But then once when I said that in a session, the client said no, so Spirit then made me feel like I was pacing up and down a driveway every day. I asked the woman if the deceased was very regimented, and when she said yes, Spirit established that oatmeal would now mean that the person really liked oatmeal and/or that the person liked a routine. Seems random to us, but listen, maybe Spirit thinks it takes a lot of discipline to eat a bowl of Quaker Oats!

But even before she got to college, Ann's thinking had become to change. She could no longer see herself working for the system. The system was corrupt through and through, she said, and you could not be a part of it without becoming corrupt yourself. So it was goodbye to that dream, as it was goodbye to "Dooley" and goodbye to horses. Oh, she would always love horses, she said, but equestrianism was on that growing list of things (along with tennis, weddings, monogamy, and cocktail parties) that she now called bourgeois affectations. (Sometimes she said, "That is such a B.A.," for short.)

I am positive that for those who have made equestrianism, harness racing, flat racing, driving and the like their profession or their hobby it is not worth reading or even opening this book.

Equestrian sport is possible only with full deafness to the feelings of the horse. The more deafness, the more insensitivity — the better the results. All the chronicles of equestrian sport are written with the blood of horses.

But barely 1 % of those involved in equestrianism are genuine sadists. All others either do not know what they are doing or are afraid to think about it.

A study of advertising found that the average person in Shanghai saw three times as many advertisements in a typical day as a consumer in London. The market was flooded with new brands seeking to distinguish themselves, and Chinese consumers were relatively comfortable with bold efforts to get their attention. Ads were so abundant that fashion magazines ran up against physical constraints: editors of the Chinese edition of Cosmopolitan once had to split an issue into two volumes because a single magazine was too thick to handle. My cell phone was barraged by spam offering a vast range of consumption choices. “Attention aspiring horseback riders,” read a message from Beijing’s “largest indoor equestrian arena.” In a single morning, I received word of a “giant hundred-year-old building made with English craftsmanship” and a “palace-level baroque villa with fifty-four thousand square meters of private gardens.” Most of the messages sold counterfeit receipts to help people file false expense reports. I liked to imagine the archetypal Chinese man of the moment, waking each morning in a giant English building and mounting his horse to cross his private garden, on the way to buy some fake receipts.

With my heart thumping, I froze up. I didn't dance. I was born with two left feet and they only worked together in the saddle. "Come on," Casey urged and grabbed my hand. "I wore my steel-toe boots. You can stand on my feet for all I care.

We can compare a life without a goal to an equestrian on an obstinate horse: much movement but little headway

I happily trailed behind her as she excitedly guided me from stall to stall ... I wasn't even interested in the bling on her rear pockets anymore. I was interested in her, not bedding her, but her. Her expression was pure glee. Innocent. I was already in love with her because of the way she loved her horses. She was as at home with them as I was.

There is a lot of folklore about equestrian statues, especially the ones with riders on them. There is said to be a code in the number and placement of the horse’s hooves: If one of the horse’s hooves is in the air, the rider was wounded in battle; two legs in the air means that the rider was killed in battle; three legs in the air indicates that the rider got lost on the way to the battle; and four legs in the air means that the sculptor was very, very clever. Five legs in the air means that there’s probably at least one other horse standing behind the horse you’re looking at; and the rider lying on the ground with his horse lying on top of him with all four legs in the air means that the rider was either a very incompetent horseman or owned a very bad-tempered horse.

In various traditions it is common to avoid calling a magical creature by its real name; in Russia the bear is often referred to as Mishka, an affectionate nickname, rather than by its proper name of Medved, or ‘honey knower’. (This is paralleled in English, where even today in equestrian terminology, the correct term for a white horse is ‘grey’, once the way of showing respect to the sacred white horse.)

as for the equestrian awakening, i fail to see a downside.” “you mean the thing no one warned me about? it seems like a subject that might come up. for example, ‘oh by the way, your future husband changes into a horse as soon as the sun rises every morning’.” - g & jane

Everything that mattered in Hank Reed’s life, outside of his family, revolved around horses. Starting with his days as a cadet, he had lived in a world that could measure everything—honor, kindliness, discipline, sporting spirit, diligence, and, most of all, courage—in equestrian terms. His brain was crammed with the nomenclature of horses: cantle, withers, curb chain, bran mash, fetlock, stock tie, near side, picket line. He knew the aids for a flying lead change, the correct attire for a foxhunt, the thunder of charging by platoon, and the serenity of riding alone on a quiet path, with only his mount’s breaths and cadenced footsteps for company. The rhythm of a horse’s strides was like music to him—the walk a ballad in four/four time, the trot a rousing two-beat march, the canter a smooth three-beat waltz. Reed knew the scent of fresh straw in the stable, the tickle of a horse’s whiskers as it nuzzled up a carrot. He knew that endless moment when a fall was inevitable and then the sudden breathless smack of landing hard on packed dirt. He knew what the end of a day on horseback felt like, salty with sweat, dirt under his fingernails, and a mind whitewashed from all worry. More than anything, Hank Reed understood what was unspoken among all of these horse soldiers. Sunburned, brusque, tough, accustomed to giving and taking orders, they knew that if you live, eat, sleep, and breathe horses for long enough, they become part of you, and your soul is forever altered.

I can make a General in five minutes, but a good horse is hard to replace.

Robbie said he never saw a horse take so easily to a rider, but Annis wasn't surprised. Bits always understood what she wanted, from a slow walk to a trot, from a canter to a gallop. He was as eager as she for their more daring rides, the ones they made when no one could see them. He loved to run, and they both loved jumping. He sailed effortlessly over fallen trees, mane and tail rippling. He popped over rows of shrubs as easily as a leaping deer, making Annis feel as if she could fly.

My excursions into "horse politics" and "the alphabets" were to pay my debt to society by serving in the political trenches of the equestrian world, but horse politics never defined me. It took horses to do that.

worried but trying to hide it, “do you know the proper way to hitch a carriage to a team of horses?” “No,” Mike answered honestly. “Since I don’t live in colonial times, it’s never come up. So I kind of winged it and tied everything together.” “Ah,” Catherine said. “Is that a problem?” Mike asked. “It might be one quite soon. Our carriage is threatening to come loose from the horses that are pulling it.” “And just when everything was going so well,” I said with a sigh. “How are your equestrian skills?” Catherine asked us. “I don’t really have any,” I replied. “Me neither,” said Mike. Catherine frowned, as though this was a failing of our schooling somehow. “Have either of you ever ridden a horse at all?” “Does a carousel count?” Mike asked. “Seeing as those horses aren’t alive, no.” “Then I haven’t.

Steve Milne, with his extensive experience, owns and trains at Forward Thinking Farm.

Riding Instructor: Guiding Aspiring Equestrians

Equine Journalism: Storytelling in the Horse World

Equine Artist: Capturing Equine Beauty

Equine Event Planner: Creating Unforgettable Experiences

Eventing:

Horse Trainer: Shaping Equine Athletes

The ultimate goal of Dressage is to create a picture of horse and rider moving as one.

How are your equestrian skills?” Catherine asked us. “I don’t really have any,” I replied. “Me neither,” said Mike. Catherine frowned, as though this was a failing of our schooling somehow. “Have either of you ever ridden a horse at all?” “Does a carousel count?” Mike asked. “Seeing as those horses aren’t alive, no.” “Then I haven’t.” “I rode one at a petting zoo once,” I said. “Although it might have been a donkey.” “None of that is very encouraging,” Catherine replied.

We will never have to tell our horse that we are sad, happy, confident, angry, or relaxed. He already knows – long before we do.

Withhold judgment amid the less-than-perfect rides and remember the serenity of horses munching hay. Do not compare yourself to others, for there will always be those who do a perfect canter pirouette and those who fall. Be content with the level where you are and the horse you are riding, for it is all as it should be; you will ascend precisely at the right moment. Do not distress when you experience setbacks, for they often unlock doors to greater ability and understanding. Be gentle with yourself, do not underestimate your horse, and above all, ride with joy. – Lynn Wolf

Once, while at my uncle’s farm my father took me for a ride on my uncle’s buckboard. Not knowing any better, my father took the bridle off of the horse to give him a break. It seemed reasonable to me, but any farmer will tell you that’s not what he should have done. Thinking that he was free and then realizing that he wasn’t, the horse bolted, dragging the wagon down a path and then through a stone quarry where the buckboard was reduced to kindling wood. After my uncle found out what had happened, things were not quite the same for some time to come. Fortunately, the horse survived with only a few scratches but the buckboard was beyond repair and poor Pop never lived down this occurrence. I guess that he wasn’t much of an equestrian either.

Training horses, heck riding horses, isn't easy. Failing is part of the process. It's how you brush yourself off and get back in the saddle that counts the most. There's beauty in the breakdown. Everything is about balance.

At a place called Jacob’s Creek, the soldiers had to execute the risky maneuver of rolling artillery across a deep chasm. On horseback, Washington was directing their movements when the hind legs of his horse buckled and began to skid down the ice-covered slope. His men then saw the greatest horseman of his age perform an equestrian tour de force. Twining his fingers through the horse’s mane, Washington yanked its large head upright with all his might. At the same time, he rocked and shifted his weight backward in his saddle until the horse regained its equilibrium. The amazing feat happened in the blink of an eye, then the artillery movement continued.

One metaphor we can use to understand these two ideas is riding a horse. Many people believe racism is like a skilled equestrian’s choosing, through decisions and commands, to go faster or slower, to jump a fence or avoid an obstacle, to follow a certain route or not. However, thinking structurally, we can understand that racism is more like a merry-go-round. You may be going up, down, and around, and you might feel as if you’re riding

Just like a dancer’s body finds its points and an equestrian incorporates her body weight into the movement of the horse, the Christian learns how to melt her will into God’s.