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Mares Quotes

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Mares Quotes

“The thought of foals being taken away from their mothers, ripped without warning from everything familiar and loved, then starved, clubbed, or sold for meat, tore her heart to shreds. Tears filled her eyes as she imagined Blue and the nurse mare, scared and confused and frantic, wondering why someone had taken their babies. She could almost feel the horrible, heavy pain in their chests, the terror and helplessness in their minds. It didn't matter that they were animals. Mares still possessed the maternal instinct. She had seen it with her own eyes when Bonnie Blue looked back at her newborn filly. It was love at first sight. Her mother had never looked at her that way, but Julia had studied enough interactions between mothers and daughters to recognize unconditional love when she saw it.”

PainUnconditional LoveMothersAnimalsBabiesHorsesDaughtersMaresMaternal LoveFoal
Book:The Life She Was Given
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“Lament's trot soon became a canter. Her canter, a gallop. The forest blurred around them as they picked up speed, blazing through copses and thickets, the rhythm of the horse's hooves drumming like thunder. Despite the stinging wind crushing past them, it wasn't cold. Heat radiated from Lament's black coat, and when Emeline looked down she found red flames flickering in the horse's mane. Tongues of fire engulfed Emeline's fingers, licking her skin. She jerked hand free, staring in horror. But her fingers were unsinged. Holy cats! Was Lament an ember mare? It was impossible. The wild, unearthly horses were forged of fire and said to be uncatchable. Untamable. In no story she knew had one ever been ridden. But Emeline had thought shadow skins impossible too. The pungent tang of smoke smoldered in the air. They were out of the Stain---nothing dead surrounded them here. The forest was lush and green and living. But in the distance, Emeline saw red. Fire. It surged toward them from the right, spreading quickly. Emeline was about to cry out in alarm, in case the boy at her back hadn't seen it, when she heard the sound of hoofbeats. Hundreds of them. Pummeling the earth in time with Lament's. Wait. Emeline squinted into the distance. It wasn't a forest fire advancing on them. It was a massive herd of ember mares. Their black bodies raged red, like burning coal, and their manes smoldered with bright flames. They were stampeding, headed straight for Lament with no sign of slowing or stopping.”

FireLamentMythical CreaturesHorseback RidingMaresEmberBlack HorseIn The Woods
Book:Edgewood
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“All around them, ember mares rushed alongside Lament. They had never intended to trample her but to join her. The graceful rhythm of their muscular bodies, the thunder in their hooves as they ran...they mesmerized Emeline. Moving as one, they reminded her of a cresting wave. A sea of fire. And beyond their blazing splendor, all was black. Night had fallen in the woods. In the steady rhythm of Lament's gait, Emeline heard assurances she'd been too frightened to hear before. I have you, Lament's hooves pounded out. I am steady and true. I won't let you fall.”

FireLamentMythical CreaturesHorseback RidingMaresEmberBlack HorseIn The Woods
Book:Edgewood
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“He hecho un alto aquí y otro más adelante; y otro en cualquier parte que me agradara. Las sociedades de nuestro tiempo han eliminado el derecho individual de no tener prisa, pero los inmunes a la ambición, los vagos y los contemplativos formamos la vanguardia del gran frente de resistencia mundial a las imposiciones esclavizantes de los que creen que el tiempo es oro. La idea de que el tiempo es oro está contaminada de ansias de poder, de alimento bélico, de angustia mercantil, de autoritarismo estatal, de irracionalidad de consumidores a ultranza. Y, en verdad, sólo cuando se transita sin prisa por las orillas de las lagunas herederas de los ámbitos en los cuales comenzó la vida humana, uno comprende objetivamente la afirmación filosófica de que el tiempo es la imagen móvil de la eternidad.”

MaresAguaLugares
Author:Luis Mario Lozzia
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“There I was out in the barn playing midwife to a pregnant mare. I remember sitting there, spinning yarn in the light of a little oil lamp, a city girl who knew nothing about farming, sitting on the deel beside that mother in pain, already beginning the birthing process. All around me there was darkness and perfect silence, except for the mother's pain. It was as if the war didn't exist in those hours.”

IfsLittlesWarLightPainRememberMotherGirlProcessHoursPerfectCitiesSilenceDarknessSittingOilPregnantLampsFarmingSpinningBarnsMidwifeYarnBirthingMaresCity Girl
Author:Diet Eman
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“Lie in the sun with the child in your flesh shining like a jewel. Dream and sing, pagan, wise in your vitals. Stand still like a fat budding tree, like a stalk of corn athrob and aglisten in the heat. Lie like a mare panting with the dancing feet of colts against her sides. Sleep at night as the spring earth. Walk heavily as a wheat stalk at its full time bending towards the earth waiting for the reaper. Let your life swell downward so you become like a vase, a vessel. Let the unknown child knock and knock against you and rise like a dolphin within.”

ChildrenStillsDreamEarthLyingNightWaitingSidesSleepWalksSunWiseTreeFeetSpringDancingShiningFleshFatsHeatPregnancyJewelsVesselCornPaganStalkingWheatDolphinsBendingVasesReaperMaresColts
Author:Meridel Le Sueur
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“The soldier takes pride in saluting his Captain, The devotee proffers a knee to his Lord, Some back a mare thrown from a thoroughbred, Troy backed its Helen, Troy died and adored; Great nations blossom above, A slave bows down to a slave.”

NationsLordPrideDiedSlaveSoldierLoyaltyKneesThrownBowsCaptainsGreat NationsHelenDevoteeThoroughbredsMares
Book:The Collected Works of W. B. Yeats: Volume I: The Poems, 2nd Edition
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“So let us raise a cheer ... for the insatiable spirit of Man eager for all new things! What a tale could have been written by that far off man who first saw a tree trunk roll and made a wheel and cart and harnessed in his mare and cracked his whip and drove away to disappear beyond the hill! Or that first man who made a boat and raised a sail and disappeared hull down to unknown shores!”

MenFirstsHas BeensMadeSpiritSawsWrittenTreeRaisesRaisedDisappearTalesFlightBoatHillsWheelsAviationShoreCheerNew ThingsSailCould Have BeenWhipsCrackedTrunksInsatiableCartsHullMaresTree Trunks
Author:Cecil Arthur Lewis
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“Stieglitz conceived, though he never carried out, a series of photographs of the heads of stallions and mares, of bulls and cows, in the act of mating, hoping to catch in the brute an essential quality that would symbolize the probably unattainable photograph of a passionate human mating.”

HumansQualityEssentialsSeriesPhotographPassionateCowsBullsBrutesUnattainableMatingStallionsMares
Book:Mumford on Modern Art in the 1930s
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“Recently Mr. Mawdsley’s donkey escaped from his stall, raced down the road, and somehow found his way into an enclosed pasture. Mr. Caird’s prized mare was innocently grazing when the ill-bred seducer had his way with her. Now it appears the mare has conceived, and a feud is raging between Caird, who demands financial compensation, and Mawdsley, who insists that had the pasture fencing been in better repair, the clandestine meeting would never have occurred. Worse still, it has been suggested that the mare is a shameless lightskirt and did not try nearly hard enough to preserve her virtue.”

WayTryingHas BeensStillsHardEnoughFoundVirtueDemandMeetingsFinancialIllRagePreservesCompensationDown The RoadDonkeyShamelessPasturesFeudsFencingGrazingClandestineMares
Book:Love in the Afternoon
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“Ma'alesh; no matter; never mind; what can you do but accept things as they are? Ma'alesh, your pot overturned in the fire; ma'alesh, your prize mare died; ma'alesh, you lost all your possessions and half your family. The word was the everyday essence of Islam - which itself, after all, means "submission.”

MindMeanMatterLostHalfAcceptingFireEssenceDiedIslamEverydayPossessionPrizePotSubmissionMares
Book:The Mary Russell Series 9-Book Bundle: O Jerusalem, Justice Hall, The Game, Locked Rooms, The Language of Bees, The God of the Hive, Pirate King, Garment of Shadows, Dreaming Spies
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“With his back to us, Sean tugs the halter from the mare's head. She kicks out, but he steps out of the way as if it were nothing at all. With a shake of her mane, she leaps mightily into the water. For a moment she struggles over the waves, and then she is swimming. Just a wild black horse in a deep blue sea full of the ashes of other dead boys.”

IfsWayMomentsBlackWaterStepsBoysStruggleSeaHorseBlueWaveKicksShakesLeapSwimmingAshesSeanMaresBlue SeaDeep Blue Sea
Book:The Scorpio Races
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“And there is the girl. When I first see her and her dun mare from my vantage point on the cliff road, I am struck first not by the fact that she is a girl, but by the fact that she's in the ocean. it's the dreaded second day, the day people start to die, and no one will get close to the surf. But there she is, trotting up to the knee in the water. Fearless.”

PeopleFirstsFactsDiesGirlWaterOceanFearlessKneesCliffsSurfVantage PointMaresTrottingScorpio Races
Author:Maggie Stiefvater
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“I can see her clearly, standing on the rock beside Peg Gratton, unflinching before Eaton and the rest of the race committee. I can't remember when I've been that brave, and it shames me. The truth is, I feel myself being fascinated and repelled by her; She's both a mirror of myself and a door to part of the island that i'm not. It's like when the mare goddess looked into my eye; I felt that there was a part of myself that I didn't know.”

KnowsFeelsI CanEyeRememberFeltRaceDoorsRocksTruth IsStandingMirrorsShameBraveIslandsFascinatedGoddessCommitteesRemember WhenPegMares
Author:Maggie Stiefvater
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“What shall I say of the gallantry with which these Marines have fought! Of the slopes of Hill 142; of the Mares Farm; of the Bois de Belleau and the Village of Bouresches stained with their blood, and not only taken away from the Germans in the full tide of their advance against the French, but held by my boys against counter attacks day after day and night after night. I cannot write of their splendid gallantry without tears coming to my eyes.”

WritingEyeNightBoysTakenBloodTearsHillsVillageFarmsTidesMarineSplendidDay And NightMarine CorpsSlopesMy BoysGallantryMaresCounter Attack
Author:James Harbord
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“When death comes, we take off our clothes and gather everything we left behind: what is dark, broken, touched with shame. When Death demands we give an accounting, naked we present our lives in bundles. See how much these weigh, we tell him, refusing to deny what we have lived. Everything that is touched by light loves the light. We the stubborn-as-grass, we who reel at the taste of sap and want our spirits cleansed, will not betray the weeds, snake, or crippled mare. Never leave behind what the light shone on.”

WantGivingLightSpiritLeftDarkBehindsOur LivesBrokenTasteQuietDemandClothesShameDenyNakedGrassTouchedWeedBetrayStubbornSnakesLeft BehindAccountingSapBundlesCrippledMares
Book:Sacraments of Desire
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“You thought I was that type: that you could forget me, and that I'd plead and weep and throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare, or that I'd ask the sorcerers for some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift: my precious perfumed handkerchief. Damn you! I will not grant your cursed soul vicarious tears or a single glance. And I swear to you by the garden of the angels, I swear by the miracle-working ikon, and by the fire and smoke of our nights: I will never come back to you.”

HeartMadeSoulNightAsksForgetFireMagicTearsBrokenTypeTerribleAngelGardenRootsMiracleSmokeDamnBroken HeartGrantsSwearGlancesCursedForget MeHandkerchiefsVicariousMaresDamn You
Author:Anna Akhmatova
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“Nature has not placed us in an inferior rank to men, no more than the females of other animals, where we see no distinction of capacity, though I am persuaded if there was a commonwealth of rational horses... it would be an established maxim amongst them that a mare could not be taught to pace.”

IfsMenWould BeAnimalTaughtCapacityFemaleHorseRationalDistinctionPaceInferiorsMaximsCommonwealthMares
Book:The works of the Right Honourable Lady Mary Wortley Montagu: including her correspondence, poems, and essays
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