A Quote by William Shakespeare

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color. — © William Shakespeare
My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that color.
Red has been praised for its nobility of the color of life. But the true color of life is not red. Red is the color of violence, or of life broken open, edited, and published. Or if red is indeed the color of life, it is so only on condition that it is not seen. Once fully visible, red is the color of life violated, and in the act of betrayal and of waste.
My money's riding on this dark horse, baby My heart is sayin' it's the lucky one And its true color's gonna shine through someday If we let this Let this dark horse run
...they told me of color, that it was an illusion of the eye, an event in the perceiver's mind, not in the object; they told me that color had no reality; indeed, they told me that color did not inhere in a physical body any more than pain was in a needle. And then they imprisoned me in darkness; and though there was no color there, I still was black, and they still were white; and for that, they bound and gagged me.
I dreamed horse and lived horse and expected, if necessary, to marry a horse; for all practical purposes I was a horse.
The specter of color is apparent even when it goes unmentioned, and it is all too often the unseen force that influences public policy as well as private relationships. There is nothing more remarkable than the ingenuity that the various demarcations of the color line reflect. If only the same creative energy could be used to eradicate the color line; then its days would indeed be numbered.
For many years, I have been moved by the blue at the far edge of what can be seen, that color of horizons, of remote mountain ranges, of anything far away. The color of that distance is the color of an emotion, the color of solitude and of desire, the color of there seen from here, the color of where you are not. And the color of where you can never go.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The difference between an author and a horse is that the horse doesn't understand the horse dealer's language.
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