He took her into his arms again, using all his strength to be gentle, and let his lips touch hers so lightly he could hardly feel it.

Intuition is the voice of the spirit within you.

There was a rhythm to the canter. Up, forward, down; up, forward, down. It soon became pleasant. The broad warm rump felt good beneath her. The pounding was diminished, cushioned by the horse's muscles and the springiness of his hindquarter joints . . . The ridden horse was a marvel, diminishing space.

teaching meant for the hands enters most easily through the eyes.

There is no disgrace in peace. There can never be dishonor in peace.

We’re born alone and we die alone, I accept that. But why, God, do we have to be alone in the middle?

She enjoys rain for its wetness, winter for its cold, summer for its heat. She loves rainbows as much for fading as for their brilliance. It is easy for her, she opens her heart and accepts everything.