Heartland Horse Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Heartland Horse. Here they are! All 9 of them:

Ty swung around. He was obviously fed up with Ben's negative attitude.
Lauren Brooke (Taking Chances (Heartland, #4))
Amy headed for the stall where a large bay hunter was looking out over his half door. Chester's owner had sent him to Heartland so he could overcome his fear of loading into horse trailers. "How are you, gorgeous?" she murmured, stroking him on the nose as Ty walked up with the halter. "I didn't know you cared!" Ty grinned. Amy hit him on the arm. "Like I meant you!
Lauren Brooke (Coming Home (Heartland, #1))
I'll miss him," she said softly. Ty nodded. "Me, too." For a moment they both stood, stroking Chester in silence. "Hey, cheer up," Ty said. Amy realized he was looking at her downcast face. "At least it means -" "That another horse can come and be helped," Amy finished Ty's sentence for him. She grinned as she saw the surprise on his face. "We were thinking the same thing." "Oh, no, I need help!" Ty said. He dodged as she tried to hit him again.
Lauren Brooke (Coming Home (Heartland, #1))
She was so happy to see a horse and a human working together as equals. It was what heartland was all about.
Lauren Brooke (Taking Chances (Heartland, #4))
I'll stay if you want," he offered. "No, of course not," Amy said quickly, her hand flying to her temples as they resumed their throbbing. "You've been great, Ty. Go home." "Everything's done. The horses are all watered and the stalls are clean." He stepped toward her, his eyes anxious. "Now, you're sure you'll be OK?" "Sure." Looking up into his worried face, she smiled, words leaping impulsively out of her. "Thanks for everything, Ty," she said. "You've been a real friend." There was a pause. Ty's eyes searched hers and then suddenly, without warning, he reached out and brushed his hand against her cheek. At the tender touch of his warm hand, Amy felt a shock run through her. It was over in a couple of seconds, and Ty stepped back. "See you tomorrow," he muttered as he strode quickly away. Amy stared after him for a few seconds, not knowing how to react.
Lauren Brooke (Coming Home (Heartland, #1))
the American Breeders Association, had nothing to do with horses; its eugenics committee was headed by a man who’d been president of Indiana University, and the first president of Stanford, David S. Jordan. He taught that the human race could be improved only by preventing the disabled or certain nonwhites from reproducing
Timothy Egan (A Fever in the Heartland: The Ku Klux Klan's Plot to Take Over America, and the Woman Who Stopped Them)
The Celtic Sufi, Sonnet Oh, you take the fancy road, I'll take the lowly road, and I'll be in heartland, while you charge your phone, where me and my true heart never ever part ways, where me and my backbone, never bend in dismay, where me and my scruples never give in to convenience, where me and my fervent dream succumb to no pride of the dead, if you alight from your high horse, with a gleaming heart I wait for thee, join me one day for a cup of tea, on the bonnie loch of liberty.
Abhijit Naskar (Brit Actually: Nursery Rhymes of Reparations)
There was too much lightness in life to let the darkness overwhelm you, Amy reflected.
Lauren Brooke (Always There (Heartland, #20))
Roughly speaking, the period when bevies of bobwhites were found in great abundance over a goodly portion of the American landscape embraced a period from early in the 20th century into the late 1950s or early 1960s. In retrospect, we can readily perceive the circumstances that produced an incredible bounty of the saucy little patrician of peafield cormers and briar-infested fencerows. All were, in one way or another, habitat related, and all have vanished like milkweed spores caught in September thermals. It was a time of sharecroppers and small farmers, folks who worked the land by hand and with teams of horses or mules. The concept of “clean farming” was both impractical and unknown, and these staunch sons of the soil were also practical conservationists who routinely left field edges and ditch banks in an overgrown state. They allowed worn-out land to revert to broomsedge and pines, and the practice of leaving peafield corners unharvested was commonplace. Raptors were shot on sight, with every hawk being deemed a “chicken” hawk. Furbearing nest predators—'’possums, ’coons, skunks, and foxes—were trapped and hunted for food or fur. Serpents, except for black snakes, which were prized because they kept rodent populations under control around corncribs, were not only killed; they were displayed on fences as a sort of message. Coyotes were at that point unknown over most of the South, the heartland of the noble quail and home of the strongest traditions associated with the bird, Foxes weren't just hunted; they were exterminated. In other words, an area encompassing tens of millions of acres was overseen by an army of unofficial, unpaid, unheralded, yet highly effective gamekeepers.
Jim Casada (The Greatest Quail Hunting Book Ever, Collector’s Edition)