欧宝娱乐

“A book about books is like a poem about poetry:

Books are knowledge, paid for, all.
Readers - horses in a stall.
Stallions should always run.
Lest they stale become, in turn.

Running waters are most clear.
In some books, you disappear 鈥�
lose yourself, and track of time.
How I wish that one was mine...

Mine, to have, to write, to read...
Mine, just like a flying steed.
Mine, forever, - to improve.
Would I then, of me, approve?

I would not, I can't... myself.
I'm but dust, swept off a shelf.
Fly, can I, just 'til I'm settled,
down, beside my flower, petalled.”
― Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“How is it that you're such an expert on home pregnancy kits?"
You're asking that question of an Italian stallion like myself? The women call me 'sperm of thunder'. I don't dare stand too close for fear I may impregnate them with just a whiff of my manhood.”
― Jill Smolinski, The Next Thing on My List

“I fake fake to have a fake life. Does that make me a real horse? Buy now for $777, wooden saddle sold separately. Real horseshoes not included. Imaginary ones 鈥� neither.”
― Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“This heavy, grass-loving dog,”
― Christopher Buehlman, The Blacktongue Thief

“So I鈥檓 there, surrounded by all these young and old girls who are obviously in season and I don鈥檛 know what to do.鈥�
The trained psychologist cleared his throat, his brows raised.
鈥淕irls鈥� in season?鈥� he questioned dubiously.
鈥淵eah鈥� and they鈥檙e all backing up to me and I just know that if I let them fall pregnant the boss鈥檒l kill me, but I鈥檓 stuck.鈥�
鈥淯mm鈥� what exactly are we talking about?鈥�
鈥淢y dream: me holding the teaser and all the clients鈥� expensive mares-鈥�
鈥淥h! So these are horses. Tell me, what鈥檚 a teaser?”
― Christine Meunier, Horse Country: A World of Horses

“My words emerge as a stallion standing firm even when none have the ability to ride them.”
― Curtis Tyrone Jones

“I will ride the world like a stallion with innovation as my halter.”
― Emmanuel Apetsi

“Where is Claray's horse?"
"This is Claray's mount," her father announced, and she couldn't help noticing his pride as he glanced to the black steed pulling impatiently at the reins Edmund was holding on to to keep the huge beast from charging up the steps to greet her.
"It's a stallion," Conall protested as they reached the bottom of the steps. "Ladies usually ride mares."
"Aye. Well, she rides him well, and the stubborn bastard'll no' let anyone else on his back so I gave him to her two years ago," her father explained as Claray slipped her hand from Conall's to move to the horse and give him a soothing hug. The moment she touched his neck and leaned her head on him, the horse calmed, rested his head on her shoulder and raised his front leg to hook his foreleg around one of her calves in his version of a hug.”
― Lynsay Sands, Highland Wolf