Just then, down through the last glimmer of twilight, stepping high and free, like a cloud, a moth, a ghost in the… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
Legends of the Silver Stallion had been told for years now, whenever mountain stockmen met round the campfires or on the winding… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“there grew up around the campfires stories of a great silver stallion seen galloping over wind-packed snow way up on the Ramshead… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
There was some rhythm, some ecstasy in this dance of flight that expressed the fact that happiness which touches depths and rises beyond physical… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“I? I am the wind,’ said Thowra. ‘I come, I pass, and I am gone.’ The strange feathers moved up and down, the strange… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“All the love of the high, wild places, all the amazing joy in being alive sounded in his voice” — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“the oncoming night was filled with the mystery of unknown places and of distance, of things that happened long ago and happenings yet to… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“A long shaft of light came down from the sun behind the clouds and fell on the rearing, striking horses so that Thowra was… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
For God took a handful of blizzard snow, blew on it and created the horse. — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“Life and summer are fleeting,’ sang the bird. ‘Snow and dark, and the winter comes. Nothing remains the same.” — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“beauty such as theirs was something with which one lived joyously — racing with the wind, with storm and snow, dancing in the frost… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“Spring comes to the Australian Alps like an invisible spirit. There is not the tremendous surge of upthrust life that there is in the… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
“Dreams were dreams; only one facet of what might be the truth of the world” — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
Just then, down through the last glimmer of twilight, stepping high and free, like a cloud, a moth, a ghost in the shape of… — Elyne Mitchell Copy Share Image
