A Quote by W. C. Sellar

To confess that you are totally Ignorant about the horse, is social suicide: you will be despised by everybody, especially the horse. — © W. C. Sellar
To confess that you are totally Ignorant about the horse, is social suicide: you will be despised by everybody, especially the horse.
My horse needs to be quiet enough not to draw my attention. You want your horse always aware of you. Be aware of your horse! Fidgeting? Direct that! Think of it as a gift. Do something with that energy; redirect it or it will be a negative. Don't let your horse check-out. A horse wants peace. Trade movement for peace.
I dreamed horse and lived horse and expected, if necessary, to marry a horse; for all practical purposes I was a horse.
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!
There is a story in Zen circles about a man and a horse. The horse is galloping quickly, and it appears that the man on the horse is going somewhere important. Another man standing alongside the road, shouts, «Where are you going?» and the first man replies, «I don't know! Ask the horse!» This is also our story. We are riding a horse, and we don't know where we are going and we can't stop. The horse is our habit energy pulling us along, and we are powerless.
I got on a horse when I was about 12 years of age, and started galloping around. my mother came up said "where did you learn to ride a horse?" I said "this is the first time I've ever been on a horse" I just knew, I just felt the horse.
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.
If a poet knows more about a horse than he does about heaven, he might better stick to the horse, and some day the horse may carry him into heaven.
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?
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.
What Plato was really asking was perhaps why a horse was a horse, and not, for example, a cross between a horse and a pig.
I would rather be the only horse in a one-horse town than be the third horse in a big city.
The difference between an author and a horse is that the horse doesn't understand the horse dealer's language.
The horse must perform from joy, not subservience. Praising a horse frequently with voice, a gentle pat, or relaxing the reins is very important to keep the horse interested and willing.
The horse seems to wanna please the human and so many times if the human isn’t much of a leader well then the horse has gotta do it’s own thinking. The horse isn’t really designed very well to be the leader but just because the horse is responding to ya, I don’t really think of it as it succumbing to you. I think it’s more of the horse sort of joining you, being more of a partner.
This one isn’t just any old horse. There’s a nobility in his eye, a regal serenity about him. Does he not personify all that men try to be and never can be? I tell you, my friend, there’s divinity in a horse, and specially in a horse like this. God got it right the day he created them. And to find a horse like this in the middle of this filthy abomination of a war, is for me like finding a butterfly on a dung heap. We don’t belong in the same universe as a creature like this.
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