He Is Called The Horse

Now I Say That With Cruelty And Oppression It Is Everybody's Business To Interfere When They See It.

My Troubles Are All Over, And I Am At Home; And Often Before I Am Quite Awake, I Fancy I Am Still In The Orchard At Birtwick, Standing With My Friends Under The Apple Trees.

He Has Known Joy And Violence. Felt The Warmth Of Children And The Cruelty Of Abuse. He Has Nearly Died Saving Lives And Merely Been Killed By A Drunken Act. He Has Known The Finery Of Grand Estates And The Filth Of Stinking Slums. He Has Survived Fire And Flood, Starvation And Torment. And Nothing Could Break His Spirit-or His Great Love. This Is His Life. He Is Called The Horse.

I Am Never Afraid Of What I Know.

I Must Say...that More Unmanly, Brutal Treatment Of A Little Pony It Was Never My Painful Lot To Witness; And By Giving Way To Such Passion, You Injure Your Own Character As Much, Nay More, Than You Injure Your Horse, And Remember, We Shall All Have To Be Judged According To Our Works, Whether They Be Towards Man Or Towards Beast.