horse literature

“Toprak özgürlüğü, kadın özgürlüğü, sözün özgürlüğü için, aşk nerdeyse o da ordaydı.”

Şêrko Bêkes

Alıntı :  1996 yılında Tahran'a gelen ünlü Kürt şairi Şêrko Bêkes'i karşılamaya giderken trafik kazasında hayatını kaybediyor Kürt Kadın şair Jîla Huseynî… Bunun üzerine Şêrko Bêkes’in Huseynî'nin kitabına  önsöz olarak yazdığı not. 

Görsel : Kurdish Woman on a magnificently decorated Horse.

Corr turns and cries out again; this time it’s like a choked sob. There’s a spiderweb of veins standing out on his shoulder. 

‘Corr,’ Sean says.

He doesn’t shout it. It doesn’t seem loud enough to be heard above the sound of the hoofbeats and the surf or the sound of Prince’s gagging, but the red stallion stills.
—  The Scorpio Races, Maggie Stiefvater

I’ve been re-reading Black Beauty, and now I think I’ve been going about things the wrong way. People who care for animals, and who care for them well, don’t have a single bad bone in their body. This goes especially for @ask-mentallyunstable-jeff or @greenpumpkinart who’s taking care of a horse/horses.

Kudos to you, girl! ^^

Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses, 1992

The desert he rode was red and red the dust he raised, the small dust that powdered the legs of the horse he rode, the horse he led. In the evening a wind came up amd reddened all the sky before him. There were few cattle in that country because it was barren country indeed yet he came at evening upon a solitary bull rolling in the dust against the bloodred sunset like an animal in sacrificial torment. The bloodred dust blew down out of the sun. He touched the horse with his heels and rode on. He rode with the sun coppering his face and the red wind blowing out of the west across the evening land and the small desert birds flew chittering among the dry bracken and horse and rider and horse passed on and their long shadows passed in tandem like the shadow of a single being. Passed and paled into the darkening land, the world to come.

I continued to float on the sea of love,
One surging wave lifting me up, another
pulling me down;
And so I went on, now rising, now falling,
Till I found myself in the middle of the deep sea,
Brought by love to a point where there was no

Husayn ibn Mansur al-Hallaj, from “Diwan,” Night and Horses and the Desert: An Anthology of Classical Arabic Literature (Anchor, 2002)

If you want to fall in love, you can’t hold everything in. You have to open up, take that risk. You’ll be hurt sometimes, but if you don’t, you’ll never be happy. The one you find may not be the kind of woman you expected to fall in love with, but it won’t matter, you’ll love her for exactly what she is.
—  Jean M. Auel; “The Valley of Horses”