A Quote by H. Allen Smith

Put it back in the horse! — © H. Allen Smith
Put it back in the horse!
He’s sort of a homeless horse,” I said. “I’m leaving for the airport in two seconds, and I won’t be back for a couple days. You can put the horse in the garage, but I don’t want that horse in my apartment.” “Who would put a horse in an apartment? That’s dumb.” “Where’s the horse staying now?” “My apartment.” “I can always count on you to brighten my day,” Ranger said. And he disconnected.
How the horse dominated the mind of the early races especially of the Mediterranean! You were a lord if you had a horse. Far back, far back in our dark soul the horse prances...The horse, the horse! The symbol of surging potency and power of movement, of action in man!
The war correspondent has his stake - his life - in his own hands, and he can put it on this horse or that horse, or he can put it back in his pocket at the very last minute.
I call horses divine mirrors - they reflect back the emotions you put in. If you put in love and respect and kindness and curiosity, the horse will return that.
I call horses 'divine mirrors' - they reflect back the emotions you put in. If you put in love and respect and kindness and curiosity, the horse will return that.
They put me in a harness, like a horse, to learn the back somersault. It was weird up there when I put on that harness for the first time. The courage came with practice.
He rose and turned toward the lights of town. The tidepools bright as smelterpots among the dark rocks where the phosphorescent seacrabs clambered back. Passing through the salt grass he looked back. The horse had not moved. A ship's light winked in the swells. The colt stood against the horse with its head down and the horse was watching, out there past men's knowing, where the stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.
I'm fine," [her dad] said gently. "Back on the horse, Cath.' 'What's the horse?' she sighed, watching him pull on a South High hoodie. 'Jogging? Working too much?' 'Living,' he said, a little too loud. 'Life's the horse.
I dreamed horse and lived horse and expected, if necessary, to marry a horse; for all practical purposes I was a horse.
For 20 years I've been screaming at these guitar companies, saying, 'It's abnormal to put your arm around an acoustic guitar that is about 6 to 8 inches deep.' Your arm reaches over, and you start to strum, and then all of a sudden you get a charley horse in your back. The older you get, the greater the charley horse.
In truth, one of our company, the solemn warrior Ecthgow, was so demented from liquor that he was drunk while still upon his horse, and he fell attempting to dismount. Now the horse kicked him in the head, and I feared for his safety, but Ecthgow laughed and kicked the horse back.
Everything comes back to the horse, which is why I love it. You put your ego aside, and you concentrate on getting the best performance out of this creature.
The old horse is coming back in a high lope. Thousands of people are riding a horse today that five years ago couldn't sit in a Ford with all the doors locked.
I don't mind when my horse is left at the post. I don't mind when my horse comes up to me in the stands and asks, "Which way do I go?" But when the horse I bet on is at the $2 window betting on another horse in the same race...
I have no time for real horses, so I have a plastic horse. Large size. Called Max Von Sydow. For photographs it looks real. If I do a photo shoot and it stands in the background, you think it's a horse. A horse is a horse.
The minute I put my leg on a horse and say, 'Come on, let's go,' I absolutely believe that the horse and I can do it and that we will do it. And I am always shocked when we actually don't do it. If the analytical mind ever overrode that optimist in me, I'd be in some serious trouble.
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