Mares Quotes - Page 2

• The soldier takes pride in saluting his Captain,
  The devotee proffers a knee to his Lord,
  Some back a mare thrown from a thoroughbred,
  Troy backed its Helen, Troy died and adored;
  Great nations blossom above,
  A slave bows down to a slave.

  William Butler Yeats

  Loyalty, Pride, Soldier

  William Butler Yeats (1997). “The Collected Works of W. B. Yeats: Volume I: The Poems, 2nd Edition”, p.581, Simon and Schuster

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• The stallion and his mare,
  unbridled, with arrow-pattern,
  are worked on.
  the blue cloth
  before the door
  of religion and inspiration.

  Hilda Doolittle

  Art, Inspiration, Blue

  Hilda Doolittle, Louis L. Martz (1986). “Collected Poems 1912-1944”, p.476, New Directions Publishing

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• There I was out in the barn playing midwife to a pregnant mare. I remember sitting there, spinning yarn in the light of a little oil lamp, a city girl who knew nothing about farming, sitting on the deel beside that mother in pain, already beginning the birthing process. All around me there was darkness and perfect silence, except for the mother's pain. It was as if the war didn't exist in those hours.

  Diet Eman

  Girl, Mother, Pain

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• His instincts should have warned him sooner than they had, but thanks to his agimortus, he'd been hobbled like a brood mare waiting to be mounted by a randy stallion

  Larissa Ione

  Should Have, Waiting, Thanks

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• Lie in the sun with the child in your flesh shining like a jewel. Dream and sing, pagan, wise in your vitals. Stand still like a fat budding tree, like a stalk of corn athrob and aglisten in the heat. Lie like a mare panting with the dancing feet of colts against her sides. Sleep at night as the spring earth. Walk heavily as a wheat stalk at its full time bending towards the earth waiting for the reaper. Let your life swell downward so you become like a vase, a vessel. Let the unknown child knock and knock against you and rise like a dolphin within.

  Meridel Le Sueur

  Wise, Dream, Children

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• Clover was a stout motherly mare approaching middle life, who had never quite got her figure back after her fourth foal.

  George Orwell

  Foals, Motherly, Figures

  George Orwell (2016). “Animal Farm”, p.1, Hamilton Books

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• Nature has not placed us in an inferior rank to men, no more than the females of other animals, where we see no distinction of capacity, though I am persuaded if there was a commonwealth of rational horses... it would be an established maxim amongst them that a mare could not be taught to pace.

  Mary Wortley Montagu

  Horse, Animal, Men

  Lady Mary Wortley Montagu (1803). “The works of the Right Honourable Lady Mary Wortley Montagu: including her correspondence, poems, and essays”, p.201

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• The piebald mare paws at the sand; I see her digging out of the corner of my eye and hear her grinding her teeth. That bridle's her curse, this island her prison. She still smells of rot.

  Maggie Stiefvater

  Eye, Islands, Smell

  Maggie Stiefvater (2011). “The Scorpio Races”, p.98, Scholastic UK

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• You thought I was that type: that you could forget me, and that I'd plead and weep and throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare, or that I'd ask the sorcerers for some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift: my precious perfumed handkerchief. Damn you! I will not grant your cursed soul vicarious tears or a single glance. And I swear to you by the garden of the angels, I swear by the miracle-working ikon, and by the fire and smoke of our nights: I will never come back to you.

  Anna Akhmatova

  Broken Heart, Angel, Night

  Anna Akhmatova, “You Thought I Was That Type”

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• Recently Mr. Mawdsley’s donkey escaped from his stall, raced down the road, and somehow found his way into an enclosed pasture. Mr. Caird’s prized mare was innocently grazing when the ill-bred seducer had his way with her. Now it appears the mare has conceived, and a feud is raging between Caird, who demands financial compensation, and Mawdsley, who insists that had the pasture fencing been in better repair, the clandestine meeting would never have occurred. Worse still, it has been suggested that the mare is a shameless lightskirt and did not try nearly hard enough to preserve her virtue.

  Lisa Kleypas

  Trying, Feuds, Demand

  Lisa Kleypas (2010). “Love in the Afternoon”, p.17, Macmillan

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• As he left to answer the call, she heard him exclaiming in wonderment on the rise. "Rocks, Nash. Is that a river mare out there? Do you see her? Have you ever laid eyes on a more gorgeous creature?

  Kristin Cashore

  Eye, Rocks, Rivers

  Kristin Cashore (2009). “Fire”, p.264, Penguin

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