R15 Riders Quotes

Especially with the signing of riders with climbing abilities and the new arrival of Tyler Hamilton, who has the strength and ability to become a great leader for the big tours. All in all, I feel this is a very complete team. ~ Laurent Jalabert

It would be nice to believe that we humans were designed to love everyone unconditionally. Nice, but rather unlikely from an evolutionary perspective. Parochial love - love within groups - amplified by similarity, a sense of shared fate, and the suppression of free riders, may be the most we can accomplish. ~ Jonathan Haidt

And then there are the subway readers of difficult books. I like to imagine that New Yorkers are more literate than the riders of other American metropolises. ~ Sari Botton

As a bonding exercise one weekend, Musk, Ambras, a few other employees and friends took off for a bike ride through the Saratoga Gap trail in the Santa Cruz Mountains. Most of the riders had been training and were accustomed to strenuous sessions and the summer's heat. They set up the mountains at a furious pace. After an hour, Russ Rive, Musk's cousin, reached the top and proceeded to vomit. Right behind him were the rest of the cyclists. Then, fifteen minutes later, Musk became visible to the group. His face had turned purple, and sweat poured out of him, and he made it to the top. "I always think back to that ride. He wasn't close to being in the condition needed for it," Ambras said. "Anyone else would have quit or walked up their bike. As I watched him climb that final hundred feet with suffering all over his face, I thought, That's Elon. Do or die but don't give up. ~ Ashlee Vance

Riders called me up afterwards to say that they had had no other choice. I couldn't understand the way they changed their tune. ~ Patrik Sinkewitz

We were the Colors of our dragons whether we lived or died. There were no other choices for us. ~ Sarah K.L. Wilson

Miriam really hates for me to ride to and from the ranch alone so your coming along should make her feel better. Right, Miriam?"
Miriam cast her a don't-play-my-own-tricks-on-me look.
For her benefactress's peace of mind, less than for Rider's knowledge, Willow added, "I've told Miriam she doesn't need to worry about me. I always carry a pistol."
Rider's brows shot up. "You pack a gun?"
"Uh-huh, an old Colt .45. It was a present from Nick, my oldest brother."
"And I bet you know how to shoot it, too." He smiled wryly.
"I ain't no quick draw, but I usually hit what I aim at. ~ Charlotte McPherren

The riders, too, were like nothing she had ever seen before: ethereal men and women with pale visages, their cheekbones so sharply sculpted that she could see their skulls through translucent skin. They surrounded her and looked at her with steely blue eyes, each gaze an arrow staking her to that spot, and she could not close her eyes though the sight of them made her eyes burn as if she were looking at the sun. ~ Malinda Lo

Without thinking, she delivered a stinging slap, all her hurt and disappointment behind the impact.
The imprint of her hand on his cheek shocked her. And though she immediately regretted her childish action, pride forbade her to own up to it. "Mind your manners, next time, Sinclair!"
Across the yard, Luter Hicks halted and burst into guffaws. "Guess she told you, lapdog! Hey, honey," he called to Willow, "if he ain't satisfying you, how 'bout lettin' me warm your bed tonight?"
An angry growl rolled out of Rider's throat. He pulled Willow up on her tiptoes, mashing her breasts against his hard chest. His fingers plowed through her thick tresses, knocking her bonnet off and scattering her hair pins. Then clasping her chin between his thumb and fingers, he tipped her head back and took fierce possession of her mouth.
When he finally released her lips, he set her down a little harder than necessary. "I'll kill the first man who even blinks at you," he ground out loud enough for Hicks to hear. Then in a low, no-nonsense voice,meant for her ears alone, he ordered, "Kiss me and make it look good!"
Willow glanced over at Hick's eager face and cringed. Her pride be damned! Sinclair was by far the lesser evil. She swept her arms around his neck. "Whatever you say...lover," she hissed in his ear. Standing on tiptoe again, she slowly brought his head down and pasted her lips to his.
But he would have none of her stiff-lipped kiss and increased the pressure o ~ Charlotte McPherren

Settle steadily down as a staid, sensible piece of paper ought to do, but it insists on contravening every recognized rule of decorum, turning over and darting hither and thither in the most erratic manner, much after the style of an untrained horse. This was the kind of horse, he said, that men had to learn to manage in order to fly, and there were two ways: One is to get on him and learn by actual practice how each motion and trick may be best met; the other is to sit on a fence and watch the beast a while, and then retire to the house and at leisure figure out the best way of overcoming his jumps and kicks. The latter system is the safest, but the former, on the whole, turns out the larger proportion of good riders. ~ David McCullough

I wanted him to meet Ainsley. She was super important to me. I made my decision. "I...I would like that."
Rider's reaction was immediate. He smiled and the dimple appeared. My breath caught. I'd actually invited Rider along to meet Ainsley. I wanted that. Really wanted that, but I had no idea what to do with that.
Regardless, excitement hummed through me. Hanging out with Rider and Ainsley was normal. Something a million people probably did every day, because they were actually living life, but it was a first for me - a huge first. It was my best friend and it was the guy...the guy who'd been my best friend and who now, despite everything, felt like something deeper, richer and more intricate, hanging out together.
It felt important. ~ Jennifer L. Armentrout

There is a Hand to turn the time,
Though thy Glass today be run,
Till the Light hath brought the Towers low
Find the last poor Preterite one ...
Till the Riders sleep by ev'ry road,
All through our crippl'd Zone,
With a face in ev'ry Mountainside
And a Soul in ev'ry stone
Now Everybody - ~ Thomas Pynchon

My strength was that I am more balanced and calmer than most other riders. ~ Miguel Indurain

But the actual mail was delivered to the little brick post office on the main drag and distributed to the keyed, ornate boxes inside. My family had one of the lower numbers because we'd inherited our box as it was passed down through the Shepherd line.
"So your family is Levan royalty, then?" Moses had teased.
"Yes. We Shepherds rule this town," I replied.
"Who has PO Box number 1?" he inquired immediately.
"God," I said, not missing a beat.
"And box number 2?" He was laughing as he asked.
"Pam Jackman."
"From down the street?"
"Yes. She's like one of the Kennedys."
"She drives the bus, right?" he asked.
"Yes. Bus driver is a highly lauded position in our community." I didn't even crack a smile.
"So boxes 3 and 4?"
"They are empty now. They are waiting for the heirs to come of age before they inherit their mailboxes. My son will someday inherit PO Box #5. It will be a proud day for all Shepherds."
"Your son? What if you have a daughter?" His eyes got that flinty look that made my stomach feel swishy. Talking about having children made me think about making babies. With Moses.
"She's going to be the first female bull-rider who wins the national title. She won't be living in Levan most of the time. Her brothers will have to look after the family name and the Shepherd line . . . and our post office box," I said, trying not to think about how much I would enjoy making little bull-riders with Moses. ~ Amy Harmon

Arrange for supplies to be delivered every day. You'll have to write up a schedule for the men. Have Cookie plan a menu this afternoon."
Frank's eyes widened. He looked as if someone had just run over his favorite dog. "Boss, you're not taking Cookie with you."
It was more of a plea than a question. "No one else can cook for shit. What am I supposed to feed them?"
"But without Cookie, one of the boys will have to cook for those of us left behind."
"There's enough stuff frozen to get everyone through a week."
"Ah, jeez." Frank's shoulders slumped. "Why'd you have to take Cookie with you?"
Zane ignored the question. Frank knew he was stuck on the ranch. With Zane gone, Frank would be in charge.
"I'll have the two-way radios with me. With the new tower in place, you'll be able to reach me any time."
Frank was still grumbling about losing the ranch cook for a week.
"Want to trade?" Zane asked flatly.
His foreman pressed his lips together. They both knew taking ten novice riders out on a fake cattle drive through wilderness was nothing short of five kinds of hell. June weather was usually good, but there was always the possibility of a freak snowstorm, a sizable flash flood, spooked cattle, bears, runaway horses, snakebite and saddle sores.
Frank slapped him on the back. "You have a fine time out there, boss. The boys and I will keep things running back here."
"Somehow I knew you were going to say that. ~ Susan Mallery

The young bloods of the South; sons of planters, lawyers about towns, good billiard players and sportsmen, men who never did any work and never will. War suits them.. They are splendid riders, first rate shots and utterly reckless. These men must all be killed or employed by us before we can hope for peace. ~ William Tecumseh Sherman

Lieutenant Rider Sinclar stretched an arm upward, neatly catching the ball. He pivoted quickly, but missed tagging Willie by a hair as she ran by him. His mouth set in a line of grim determination, he charged after her. Launching himself forward and wrapping his arms around her, he slammed them both to the desert floor. A puff of dust filled his nostrils and settled on his sweat-dampened face.
Winded, it was a moment before the unexpected softness filling Rider's left palm penetrated his senses. "What the..." Naw,couldn't be, he assured himself. But he queezed the soft globe in his hand, and there was no mistaking the pleasantly familiar roundness of a woman's breast.
"Lord Almighty! It's a woman!"
Willie filled her deflated lungs and gasped angrily. "Now that you got that figured out,get off me! Can't you see that my fingers are touching the base? I'm safe, you damn fool."
"Safe?" Rider repeated incredulously, still trying to grasp the fact that he'd just tackled a woman. "Hell, you're lucky that fall didn't break you in two. ~ Charlotte McPherren

The song is gone; the dance
is secret with the dancers in the earth,
the ritual useless, and the tribal story
lost in an alien tale.
Only the grass stands up
to mark the dancing-ring; the apple-gums
posture and mime a past corroboree,
murmur a broken chant.
The hunter is gone; the spear
is splintered underground; the painted bodies
a dream the world breathed sleeping and forgot.
The nomad feet are still.
Only the rider's heart
halts at a sightless shadow, an unsaid word
that fastens in the blood of the ancient curse,
the fear as old as Cain. ~ Judith A. Wright

Do not think I do not realise what I am doing. I am making a composition using the following elements: the winter beach; the winter moon; the ocean; the women; the pine trees; the riders; the driftwood; the shells; the shapes of darkness and the shapes of water; and the refuse. These are all inimical to my loneliness because of their indifference to it. Out of these pieces of inimical indifference, I intend to represent the desolate smile of winter which, as you must have gathered, is the smile I wear. ~ Angela Carter

I love dill pickles! They're on my rider for my concerts so I eat one every day. ~ Jordin Sparks

Michael Roberts is a great rider and a great tactician; he was always using his brain in a race. His determination to become champion jockey was unswerving. He worked night and day, day and night to do it. You must have tunnel vision to become champion jockey: you must almost block everything else out, and he did that perfectly. ~ Steve Cauthen

The first arrow struck Semian in the leg, just above the knee. Semian howled, staggered and fell back into the water. The second arrow struck one of the other riders in the back. The third arrow hit the wounded dragon in the neck, which only made it hiss and snap. Kemir didn't stop to fire a fourth; instead he jogged a little deeper into the forest and then turned and followed the path of the river. The knights wouldn't follow him into the trees, he was quite sure of that, and the dragons would never find him in the dark. Not killing Rider Semian, he discovered, was immensely satisfying. Killing him was something he could do only once. He smiled to himself. ~ Stephen Deas

You can't see the real happiness and feelings of a real rider while riding. As real riders covers there head with a helmet ~ Ansh - The Mystic Rider

The first trip of the Pony Express was made in ten days - an average of two hundred miles a day. But we soon began stretching our riders and making better time. ~ Buffalo Bill

I know he frightens you, Willow, but I won't let him hurt you. I wish you'd remember that, and try to relax a little."
Reluctant to divulge her suspicions that Hicks had stolen the cattle and possibly blackmailed her pa, she didn't correct Rider's assumption that she was worrying about her own safety.
Instead she replied, "I'm still not sure why you're risking your neck. You don't really even like me."
Rider tugged her to an abrupt halt on the path and tilted her face up to his. "I like you plenty, lady. Maybe too much. But if you choose not to believe that, then maybe you can believe this. You're not using me any more than I'm using you. Right now, you need a strong man to protect you. I'm strong and I need the job. It's as simple as that."
For a moment Willow stood stock still. Then she grinned. "You like me, huh?"
"Yeah." He chucked her under the chin. "I got this thing about poor helpless females."
"Helpless!" she bristled. Then recognizing the teasing twinkle in his eye, she smiled. "Don't make me laugh, Rider. That makes my head hurt, too. ~ Charlotte McPherren

What's going on? I'm in the back car of a roller coaster at the top of the climb, with the front rows already giving themselves over to gravity. I can hear those front riders screaming and know my own scream is only seconds away. I'm at the moment you hear the landing gear of a plane grind loudly into place, in that instant before your rational mind tells you it's just the landing gear. I'm leaping off a cliff only to discover I can fly... and then realizing there's nowhere to land. Ever. That's what's going on. ~ Neal Shusterman

There is an ambush everywhere from the army of accidents; therefore the rider of life runs with loosened reins. ~ Hafez

The Clock on the Morning Lenape Building

Must Clocks be circles?
Time is not a circle.
Suppose the Mother of All Minutes started
right here, on the sidewalk
in front of the Morning Lenape Building, and the parade
of minutes that followed--each of them, say, one inch long--
headed out that way, down Bridge Street.
Where would Now be? This minute?
Out past the moon?
Jupiter?
The nearest star?

Who came up with minutes, anyway?
Who needs them?
Name one good thing a minute's ever done.
They shorten fun and measure misery.
Get rid of them, I say.
Down with minutes!
And while you're at it--take hours
with you too. Don't get me started
on them.

Clocks--that's the problem.
Every clock is a nest of minutes and hours.
Clocks strap us into their shape.
Instead of heading for the nearest star, all we do
is corkscrew.
Clocks lock us into minutes, make Ferris wheel
riders of us all, lug us round and round
from number to number,
dice the time of our lives into tiny bits
until the bits are all we know
and the only question we care to ask is
"What time is it?"

As if minutes could tell.
As if Arnold could look up at this clock on
the Lenape Building and read:
15 Minutes till Found.
As if Charlie's time is not forever stuck
on Half Past Grace.
As if a swarm of stinging minutes wa ~ Jerry Spinelli

As many of the riders before me had been held up and robbed of their packages, mail and money that they carried, for that was the only means of getting mail and money between these points. ~ Calamity Jane

The rider evolved to serve to the elephant. ~ Jonathan Haidt

Lord,it's hot in here!" she exclaimed, waving a bedraggled towel in front of her face. "Wouldn't mind a swim myself." Paying him no mind, she unfastened a couple of buttons on her shirt, parted it, and blotted the swells of her breasts with the towel. As she bent down and reached into a cupboard, the shirt gaped.
Paralysis afflicted Rider from his eyeballs down.
Unaware of his stymied condition, Willow rummaged though the cupboard and asked, "Did Juan and Taylo get back yet?"
No answer.
"Sinclair?" She found a chunk of soap and a towel and rose from her stooped position to find Rider's eyes glued to her breasts.
The soap thunked Rider on his chest and broke his trance. He glanced up just in time to get a towel in his face but managed to catch it before it joined the soap on the floor. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"Never mind," She spun away to face the stove and to conceal her flaming face. Busily stirring with one hand, she nonchalantly rebuttoned her blouse with the other. "Don't tarry," she warned over her shoulder, "supper is almost ready."
Tarry? Tarry? If he remained a minute longer, he was going to have dessert here and now and to hell with supper! He lowered his hat a few discreet inches to hide the evidence of his stirring desire. Then,with an ease he didn't feel, he picked up the soap. "I'll hurry, and thanks for the soap."
He turned to leave, then stopped, a devilish glint in his eye. After the emotional turmoil she'd just ~ Charlotte McPherren

Why can't we be friends now?" said the other, holding him affectionately. "It's what I want. It's what you want." But the horses didn't want it - they swerved apart: the earth didn't want it, sending up rocks through which riders must pass single file; the temple, the tank, the jail, the palace, the birds, the carrion, the Guest House, that came into view as they emerged from the gap and saw Mau beneath: they didn't want it, they said in their hundred voices "No, not yet," and the sky said "No, not there. ~ E. M. Forster

She had lost herself somewhere along the frontier between her inventions, her stories, her fantasies and her true self. The boundaries had become effaced, the tracks lost, she had walked into pure chaos, and not a chaos which carried her like the galloping of romantic riders in operas and legends, but which suddenly revealed the stage props: a papier-mâché horse. ~ Anais Nin

Why do you two have swords?"
"Yes," Day asked. "Why do we?" He headed toward the door without waiting for the answer.
"There is a gigantic beast rising from the lake and coming toward the hut," Gregori said, as if he'd just told them the neighbors were coming for breakfast. "We should probably stop it before it gets here. ~ Deborah Blake

The truth is that The Wild One -- despite an admittedly fictional treatment -- was an inspired piece of film journalism. Instead of institutionalizing common knowledge, in the style of Time, it told a story that was only beginning to happen and which was inevitably influenced by the film. It gave the outlaws a lasting, romance-glazed image of themselves, a coherent reflection that only a very few had been able to find in a mirror, and it quickly became the bike rider's answer to The Sun Also Rises. The image is not valid, but its wide acceptance can hardly be blamed on the movie. The Wild One was careful to distinguish between "good outlaws" and "bad outlaws," but the people who were most influenced chose to identify with Brando instead of Lee Marvin whose role as the villain was a lot more true to life than Brando's portrayal of the confused hero. They saw themselves as modern Robin Hoods ... virile, inarticulate brutes whose good instincts got warped somewhere in the struggle for self-expression and who spent the rest of their violent lives seeking revenge on a world that done them wrong when they were young and defenseless. ~ Hunter S. Thompson

When the rider demands the piaffe, he has to halt the horse a few strides before the latter wants to stop of his own accord. ~ Nuno Oliveira

The rider and the team need to understand one another and work in the same direction. Then the rider's happy, and only then will the rider be able to give 100%. ~ Sete Gibernau

There's no use in talking about the plan, because of course nothing went the way it was supposed to. Even the passage of time was horribly distorted. At first the ride to the hill seemed endless, with me sneaking looks at my brother, who was increasingly unsteady in his saddle.
The Marquis insisted on riding in front of us the last little distance, where we saw a row of four horse riders waiting--the outer two bearing banners, dripping from the rain, but the flags' green and gold still brilliant, and the inner two riders brawny and cruel faced and very much at ease, wearing the plumed helms of command.
"I just wanted to see if you traitors would dare to face me," Galdran said, his caustic voice making me feel sick inside. Sick--and angry.
The Marquis bowed low over his horse's withers, every line of his body indicative of irony.
Galdran's face flushed dark purple.
"I confess," Shevraeth drawled, "we had a small wager on whether you would have the courage to face us. ~ Sherwood Smith

To get a horse to hit a mark without a rider, to get it to stand up, to get it to rear, to get it to pick up a bucket and bring it over is amazing. It's hard work and very rewarding but can be dangerous. ~ Benedict Cumberbatch

There are storm clouds before the storm, there are the living before the dead. I need a figurehead, a banner bearer who will announce my arrival to the world. ~ Kevin Outlaw

Drug use, within entire teams continues unabated. It is planned and deliberate cheating, with complex methods, sophisticated substances and techniques, and the active complicity of doctors, scientists, team officials and riders. There is nothing accidental about it. ~ Richard Pound

I don't want riders who work physically hard. Work by thinking. ~ Nuno Oliveira