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“Pony eyed the pitcher of hot fudge sauce Nellie had placed on the table. “And if you pass that pitcher, I will reveal a nugget of information that will please you and instantly return me to your good goddess graces.â€�
Nellie pushed the pitcher forward. “Spill. Not the fudge sauce. The info.”
― Jude Watson, Nowhere to Run

“Even if we can’t see it, the sun never stops shining.”
― R.J. Palacio, Pony

“Your pony, he said as he stomped toward me. "I'm the farrier who is here to fix your pony."
"I thought you were a Hells Angel," I said.
"I used to be," he replied. "But fighting all the time and being really drunk and nasty got boring. So now I just take care of animals.”
― Jack Gantos

“My shrink suggested that if I was going to continue traveling so much that I could look into getting a service animal expressly trained to provide emotional support to people with anxiety disorders. I considered getting Hunter S. Thomcat trained, but then I remembered that he gets spontaneous nervous diarrhea every time he's in a moving car, and I'd imagine that holding a cat who seems to have explosive plane dysentery wouldn't necessarily *help* my anxiety as give me something new (and horribly unsanitary) to be anxious about.

I called around to different service-animal specialists and spoke to a woman who told me it's better to get an animal who has already been trained and has the right temperament. She also told me cats aren’t preferred emotional-support animals for anxiety disorder, but my cats hate dogs so I figured I was fucked, but then she told me that the Americans with Disabilities Act was recently interpreted as allowing “people with anxiety disorders to travel with an emotional-support pony on airlines.â€� So basically I could bring a goddamn pony on board with me. I’m pretty sure a pony wouldn’t fit under my seat or in my lap, but I rather liked the idea of a small medicinal horse standing in the aisle beside me while I braided his mane. Plus, Pony Danza would make a great pack animal and instead of bringing suitcases I could just put my extra clothes on him and that way I wouldn’t have to pay to check a bag. Plus, the pony wouldn’t get cold because it would be wearing my pajamas.”
― Jenny Lawson, Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

“A stranger came out to White Acre one day to sell Henry a pony, for Alma to learn to ride. The pony's name was Soames, and he was the color of sugar icing, and Alma loved him immediately. A price was negotiated. The two men settled on three dollars. Alma, who was only six years old, asked, "Excuse me, sir, but does that price also include the bridle and saddle which the pony is currently wearing?"
The stranger balked at the question, but Henry roared with laughter. "She's got you there, man!" he bellowed, and for the rest of that day, he ruffled Alma's hair whenever she came nearer, saying, "What a good little auctioneer I've got as a daughter!”
― Elizabeth Gilbert, The Signature of All Things

“My fantasy was that I was the long-lost switched-at-birth child of wealthy eccentrics. One day, they would find me and take me away from the gypsy caravan that was my life, and give me hot meals, a decent dress, and a pony.”
― Roberta Pearce, A Bird Without Wings

“Nobody has ever tried to understand this pony. Nobody has ever been on her side. Until now. She needs you to fight for her, Marley. She needs you to love her.”
― Kate Lattey, Dream On

“Alec is sitting deep in the saddle, holding the mare firmly between hand and leg, not letting her get away from him. After a couple of quick circles, she steadies her stride and gets into a proper rhythm, moving with ease and grace across the turf, turning easily and responding to Alec’s light aids. There’s not much muscle on her light frame, her neck is thin and held high, giving a slightly giraffe-like impression, and her unease shows in the slight roll of her eye. But I can see now, so easily, the pony she could be. I can imagine myself cantering her into the ring, her copper coat glistening in the sun and neatly pulled mane ruffling in the light breeze, her slender legs dancing across the grassy turf. I can feel my own legs against her sides, the thickness of rubber reins taut between my fingers. I hear the sound of the jostling crowd and know that all eyes are on us as we canter around the ring. We hold their attention and admiration as they watch us jump easily over the highest obstacles. In my mind, the chestnut pony’s neck is arched, tail proudly aloft, her dark eyes bright and full of life and enthusiasm.”
― Kate Lattey, Flying Changes

“I’d looked around my room at the ribbons and sashes and rosettes hanging from the walls, at the photos of my ponies clearing the highest fences with me crouched in the saddle, a look of utter determination on my face. I’d made myself look hard at the pictures, at my legs swinging backwards over the fences, at my body lying low over my pony’s neck, my hands grasping at the reins as I turned them in mid-air. At the way that Teddy’s eyes were bulging as I pulled him around a tight turn, at the way the veins popped out on Buck’s lathered neck, at Springbok’s open mouth, dripping with foam.
I’d looked hard at them all, and I hadn’t liked what I’d seen.”
― Kate Lattey, Triple Bar

“Ain't nothing more natural than a girl on a pony.”
― John Larison, Whiskey When We're Dry

“She had made friends already, and like all horses she knew that important tasks should best be tackled communally.”
― Chiara Kilian, The First Tale of the Tinners' Rabbits

“Emily was still so saturated in earthquake as to be dumb. She ate earthquake and slept earthquake: her fingers and legs were earthquake. With John it was ponies. The earthquake had been fun: but it was the ponies that mattered.”
― Richard Hughes, A High Wind in Jamaica