Quotes from Walter Farley

I believe that half the trouble in the world comes from people asking 'What have I achieved?' rather than 'What have I enjoyed?' I've been writing about a subject I love as long as I can remember--horses and the people associated with them, anyplace, anywhere, anytime. I couldn't be happier knowing that young people are reading my books. But even more important to me is that I've enjoyed so much the writing of them.

His mane was like a crest, mounting, then falling low. His neck was long and slender, and arched to the small, savagely beautiful head. The head was that of the wildest of all wild creatures- a stallion born wild- and it was beautiful, savage, splendid. A stallion with a wonderful physical perfection that matched his savage, ruthless spirit.

You've never in your life seen a horse run so fast! He's all power-all beauty.

Yet when books have been read and reread, it boils down to the horse, his human companion, and what goes on between them.

Arabia—where the greatest horses in the world were bred!

The Black was looking out on the open sea; his ears pricked forward, his thin-skinned nostrils quivering, his black mane flowing like windswept flame. Alec could not turn his eyes away; he could not believe such a perfect creature existed.

You need luck to keep going. It takes more than skill to stay alive.

He opened his eyes to see the dented skull cap, still on the chair where Henry had left it. He looked at it a long while, knowing that it was far better to accept it than to turn away and forever fear it.

Dedicated to all boys and girls who love horses but never have had one of their own

were the cribbers, Danny decided, those who took hold of some part of their stall while inhaling and swallowing deep drafts of air with a grunting sound.

On his office wall he had a note to himself: 'Money is necessary--but it isn't too important.' Money meant for him to keep on writing and to go his own way.

On January 1, 1919, all the yearlings in the big stable celebrated their second birthday. It didn't matter that all of them had some months to go before they were actually two years of age. Officially, in the eyes of the Thoroughbred Racing Association, they were two-year-olds, grown up and old enough to begin their racing careers the following spring.

beautiful head. The head was that of the wildest of all wild creatures—a stallion born wild—and it was beautiful, savage, splendid. A stallion with a wonderful physical perfection that matched his savage, ruthless spirit.

Alexander Ramsay, known to his friends back home in New York City as Alec

frog. It was this spongelike rubber cushion that absorbed the first terrific shock of a thousand-pound horse galloping over a hard surface at high speed.

Black Minx never moved. She seemed to know what this was all about. She accepted their offerings, their embraces, in a very queenly way. Her manner indicated that she was getting only what was long due her, and that she had known all along no colt would beat her in the Kentucky Derby. Perhaps she had known. Alec and Henry wouldn't have been surprised. She was that kind of girl.

Its hold was loaded with coffee, rice, tea, oil seeds and jute. Black smoke poured from its one stack, darkening the hot cloudless sky. Alexander

They took pictures of Henry as he sat in the old canvas chair before the stall. 'Cross your knees and look sly,' they told Henry.

high and none of the pasture fences could hold him. He therefore ordered the old man to hobble him for fear the young stallion would rake

Imagination can help you reach into the heavens to grasp an idea, bring it down to earth, and make it work.

You've never in your life seen a horse run like this! He's all power - all beauty.