Come to the stable. Come to where the horses are, and the sweet, grainy, pungent smells. — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
No ride is ever the last one. No horse is ever the last one you will have. Somehow there will always be other horses, other places to ride them. — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
You and your horse. His strength and beauty. Your knowledge and patience and determination and understanding and love. That's what fuses the two of… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
Nursing is a kind of mania; a fever in the blood; an incurable disease. — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“When I can't ride anymore, I shall keep horses as long as I can hobble around with a bucket and a wheelbarrow. When I… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
Nursing is a kind of mania; a fever in the blood; an incurable disease which, once contracted, cannot be got out of the system.… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“Now that it was safe to drag their relationship out into the light and examine it mercilessly it was fantastic on what a thin… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
Writing is a cop-out. An excuse to live perpetually in fantasy land, where you can create, direct and watch the products of your own… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“Mary could be as sullen or rebellious as anyone on occasion, but she never achieved the glorious abandon with which Angela simply went her… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
Nothing that ever happens in life can take away the fact that I am me. So I have to go on being me. — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
We dominate a horse by mind over matter. We could never do it by brute strength. — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“She had not told her mother about Denys, but she had a suspicion that Mrs. Shannon knew all about it nevertheless. It was unlike… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“While they were dancing, the buoyancy that the champagne had given her left her all at once, and she slumped and felt suddenly tired… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
Come to the stable. Come to where the horses are, and the sweet, grainy, pungent smells. — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“What else happened?' she asked, not because she was particularly interested, but because one must talk to one's mother when she came to visit… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“The lovely effects of champagne were quite gone and only the nasty ones were left; the taste in the mouth, the splitting ache in… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
“However, now she was a schoolgirl no longer. She had discovered how to manage her hair, had been to one or two parties and… — Monica Dickens Copy Share Image
