If you have it, it is for life. It is a disease for which there is no cure. You will go on riding even after they have to haul you on a comfortable wise old cob, with feet like inverted buckets and a back like a fireside chair... when I can't ride anymore, I shall still keep horses as long as I can hobble about with a bucket and a wheelbarrow. When I can't hobble, I shall roll my wheelchair out to the fence of the field where my horses graze, and watch them.

Nursing is a kind of mania; a fever in the blood; an incurable disease.

Dog lovers hate to clean out kennels. Horse lovers like cleaning stables.

The limitless jet-lag purgatory of Immigration and Baggage at Heathrow.

Nothing that ever happens in life can take away the fact that I am me. So I have to go on being me.

Riding is a complicated joy. You learn something each time. It is never quite the same, and you never know it all.

We dominate a horse by mind over matter. We could never do it by brute strength.