Longhorn Bull Quotes

I felt my words sink deep, through the flags of the Bull Court, and the vaults below, down through the rubble of the ancient Labyrinths, through the virgin earth and the living rock, down to the sacred cavern where the dark lord stands in his bull shape, long-horned and curly-browed, with great eyes glowing red as embers in the night.

Down in the earth court a man was standing, naked down from the neck; broad-bodied, thick-legged, thatched with black hair on chest and groin and shins, a-straddle before the sacred Labrys. His trunk glistened with the chrism a shaking old man and woman smeared on him with half-palsied hands. From the neck down he was man, and base; above the neck he was beast, and noble. Calm and lordly, long-horned and curly-browed, the splendid bull-mask of Daidalos gazed out through the sorry huddle with its grave crystal eyes.

Arms still crossed, Lindsay's clogs tapped on the sidewalk. “So Sam didn’t tell you I was a desperate orphan child with no life outside of work? This isn’t some kind of intervention, some kind of lame attempt to cheer me up?” He grinned.“Why would she do that?” “Because that’s how it sounded.” Nudging her shoulder, he grinning down at her. “You don’t look desperate, Dr. Lindsay, not by a long shot." “That’s because you don’t know me.” Lindsay bit her lower lip, arms still crossed, clogs still tap-tap-tapping. Her chest heaved. “My parent’s died in a car accident almost two years ago. It’s a difficult thing to get over. I’m still not exactly right. I guess she worries about me.” Ty sucked in his breath, thinking fast. “I’m really sorry about your parents, Linds.” As he put an arm around her shoulder, she broke into a self-conscious smile and shook her head. “Spend any time with me at all and you’ll find that Sam’s right. I’m a desperate orphan child, completely paranoid and irrepressibly horny.” “Whoa!” She looked so cute, but vulnerable, too. He closed the arm around her shoulder, squeezing her sideways to his chest. Embarrassed, she smiled as she elbowed his rib. Then she dropped her arms and stayed put, tucked close against him. It felt right, having her there.

mine… it’s somewhere between a fog horn and a longhorn bull. The curtains pulled back and she stood there almost in tears. Then

In the long winter evenings Evan and Della sat by the hearth and listened to the cowboy's tales of his life on the trail. "After a long, hot ride we finally camped at Red River. Cookie had our beans boiling in the pot, when an ornery steer got stuck in a mud hole. No one wanted to get him out, so they volunteered me for the job. I lassoed him and my horse gave him a good pull. Now you'd think that longhorn would have been grateful, but when I set him loose, he chased me around camp like I was a Spanish matador. He finally stopped when a pretty heifer called him over for a kiss." "Maybe that bull was just trying to say thank you," Evan said. "If you had stayed put he might have kissed you instead!" And the cowboy laughed.

The sounds of the canyon are different now. Settlers have crowded in. Fences and longhorns dot the land as far as the eye can see. Nowadays, I wake to the rumble of engines, do chores to the whoop and holler of a hundred cowhands, and go to sleep to the blast of the train whistles. But some days when I ride north beyond the last stand of salt cedar, I can once again hear the faint chords of the old songs. I hear the clatter of clashing horns. I hear the bellowing of the bulls. I hear the muffled thud of hooves as they hurl up dust. And I live on the keen edge of hope that one day the strains of that sweet, wild music will echo far beyond these canyon walls.

Longhorn sermon: two points with a whole lot of bull in between.