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“To expect life to treat you good is foolish as hoping a bull won't hit you because you are a vegetarian.”
― Roseanne Barr

“A tired man lay down his head
in a dusty room so dim,
and for so long his wife did shake
and yell to waken him.

Meanwhile his thoughts, his dreams, did stir
of sandy, red bullfights,
of powder-blasts in the air
and carnival delights.

Yet still his wife was in despair
in a dusty room so dim,
for she knew death was a whore
not far from tempting him.”
― Roman Payne

“Toreros must also be accustom themselves to a career which will inevitably involve injury by goring: sometimes serious, if not grotesque, goring. No matter what your personal opinion of the corrida may happen to be, these facts are inescapable: in the corrida, bulls and men meet fear and pain and both may die.”
― A.L. Kennedy, On Bullfighting

“According to the media and other stock market "experts," the equities bull is forever hiding just around that next corner on Wall Street. But millions of investors who listened to the experts back in 1998-2001 about "the New Economy" get hammered in the stock market and are still trying to get back to even.

The smart investor looks for opportunities to acquire value on the cheap, with one eye out for a dynamic change in the offing that might make that investment even more valuable.”
― Jim Rogers, Hot Commodities: How Anyone Can Invest Profitably in the World's Best Market

“There are many things Rainey does not understand: war, and running with the bulls, for two examples. Why get anywhere near herds of bulls and irritate them in the first place? Why is this popular? She would prefer to be liked by bulls--to meet them in a placid zone and stare at one another.”
― Naomi Shihab Nye, There Is No Long Distance Now

“The Waifs' Home was an old building which had apparently formerly been used for another purpose. It was located in the country opposite a great big dairy farm where hundreds of cows, bulls, calves and a few horses were standing. Some were eating, and prancing around like they wanted to tell somebody, anybody, how good they felt. . . .When I got out of the wagon with the other boys the first thing I noticed was several large trees standing before the building. A very lovely odor was swinging across my nostrils.

"What flowers are those that smell so good?" I asked.

"Honeysuckles," was the answer.

I fell in love with them, and I'm ready to get a whiff of them any time.”
― Louis Armstrong Satchmo, Satchmo: My Life in New Orleans