Somewhere in time’s own space,
there must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow,
some paradise where the horses go:
For, by the love that guides my pen,
I know great horses live again.
–Stanley Harrison
Somewhere in time’s own space,
there must be some sweet pastured place
Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow,
some paradise where the horses go:
For, by the love that guides my pen,
I know great horses live again.
–Stanley Harrison
Horse sense is the thing a horse has
that keeps him from betting on people.
—W.C. Fields