Quotes About Ponies

I used to ride horses when I was younger. Ponies were my life. I miss being fearless.

What happened to your other nut? Was one of those ponies hungry?

When people chat to me about my childhood and getting into horses, they're like, 'Was it like the birds sang and the sun came out? Was it an amazing experience?' I'm like, 'No, it was rubbish. I was frightened. I was pretty unbalanced, and most ponies took advantage of me.'

The horse grunted softly. He had huge teeth, Clary noticed uneasily; each one the size of a Pez dispenser. She imagined those teeth sinking into her leg and thought of all the girls she'd known in middle school who'd wanted ponies of their own. She wondered if they were insane.

But I went to the University of Texas in the 30s, and while there I learned to ride. Mostly polo ponies.

Hey, I like unicorns. Unicorns are just weaponized ponies.

Unicorns are just horny ponies.

The ragwort steeds are there in front of the apartment complex- starved-looking yellow ponies with lacy manes and emerald eyes, like sea horses on land, weeds come to snorting, snuffling life.

Sometimes Jude longed for her bike, but there were none in Faerie. Instead, she had giant toads, and thin greenish ponies and wild-eyed horses slim as shadows. And she had weapons. And her parents' murderer, now her foster father.

Free ponies for all Americans!

She thought about the dolphins, the warm smells of the island, and the animals that lived there. She realized that all of this was what made the Chincoteague ponies special. It wasn't just that they were horses, although that in itself would have been enough. But the ponies were even more. They were the sun, the sand, the untamed beauty of nature, all rolled into one. And they were a legend in themselves.

When the storm clouds in the west Are quickly gathering The ponies they run wild there Before it rains You'll see their sleek dark bodies Brightly gleaming You know the fire is flying through Their brains...

Chico was a small-time hustler and big-time loser who liked to bet the ponies and hit women. He was more successful at the latter.

Father, of course, was special all to himself. There could never be anyone quite to match him. I wanted to be like him, just as he was. But first I wanted, as he had done, to ride the range, to have my own string of ponies and take part in an all-brand round-up and in a big cattle drive and dash into strange towns with just such a rollicking crew and with a season's pay jingling in my pockets.

Zealots are one-trick ponies. They love nothing so much as their own cause. Don't get in their way without expecting to be hurt.