A Quote by Jane Hirshfield
As this life is not a gate, but the horse plunging through it.
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Before one goes through the gate one may not be aware there is a gate One may think there is a gate to go through and look a long time for it without finding it One may find it and it may not open If it opens one may be through it As one goes through it one sees that the gate one went through was the self that went through it no one went through a gate there was no gate to go through no one ever found a gate no one ever realized there was never a gate
I can't get through the gate. The gate is narrow.
My role is the shepherd's role. The shepherd is the one who opens the gate and allows the flock to go through and whoever opens the gate has to close it, and the gate is not yet closed.
The Sufis advise us to speak only after our words have managed to pass through three gates. At the first gate, we ask ourselves, 'Are these words true?' If so, we let them pass on; if not, back they go. At the second gate, we ask, 'Are the necessary?' At the last gate, we ask, 'Are they kind?'
Where I went off, you can get back on the track by going through the support race pitlane, but you have to go through a gate. I know this as I did the same thing in 2001 and the gate was open that year. Somebody closed it this time. Next year, I'll make sure it's open again...
Yog-Sothoth knows the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the gate. Yog-Sothoth is the key and guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Yog-Sothoth. He knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. He knows where They have trod earth's fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as They tread.
A horse, you know, they can't say, 'Hi? How are you? I'm so-and-so,' you know? So they communicate through typically smelling or, you know, just body language. And when a horse approaches another horse, the first thing they do is they smell noses.
[There, in War Horse] very little CGI. What happened there - because the horse was running very close to the trench, we had a rider. So in few instances, we had a rider dressed in a green suit. The rider would guide the horse through the frame, and through CGI [we removed] the rider. But that's about it.
Perhaps passing through the gates of death is like passing quietly through the gate in a pasture fence. On the other side, you keep walking, without the need to look back. No shock, no drama, just the lifting of a plank or two in a simple wooden gate in a clearing. Neither pain, nor floods of light, nor great voices, but just the silent crossing of a meadow.
The horse is a gift to us, to humanity. And for that, there comes responsibility. If the horse is gonna work for you and work with you, then the best thing I can do for the horse is to make it as good a life possible.
You're trying to figure out a way to meet a horse to where he can understand. And to me, it's not to train a horse, it's to try to get the horse with you where it's one mind and one body. You may spend your whole life chasing that, but it's a good thing to chase.
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.
A woman's body is the gate to this life. A man's body is the gate to the next life.
I dreamed horse and lived horse and expected, if necessary, to marry a horse; for all practical purposes I was a horse.
We gallop through our lives like circus performers balancing on two speeding side-by-side horses--one foot is on the horse called "fate," the other on the horse called "free will." And the question you have to ask every day is--which horse is which? Which horse do I need to stop worrying about because it's not under my control, and which do I need to steer with concentrated effort?
I could happily lean on a gate all the livelong day, chatting to passers-by about the wind and the rain. I do a lot of gate-leaning while I am supposed to be gardening; instead of hoeing, I lean on the gate, stare at the vegetable beds and ponder.
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