“Well it's bulls and blood,
It's dust and mud,
It's the roar of a Sunday crowd.
It's the white in his knuckles,
The gold in the buckle,
He'll win the next go 'round.
It's boots and chaps,
It's cowboy hats,
It's spurs and latigo.
It's the ropes and the reins,
And the joy and the pain,
And they call the thing rodeo.”

“No one wears buckles anymore, and I decided to get him some real boots next winter solstice.”

“Wearing silver boots and a hat, armbands and a smile, he whipped out his paintbrush, so to speak, and in 20 minutes painted pictures of his customers with a flourish - while a fascinated crowd gathered, some gaping in disbelief.”

“Now there were screams. then dust. Then crumbling and roaring. I turned round and round in a circle. I had done this…You did it, Arturo. This is the wrath of God…Great clouds of dust…Up in that room on that bed you did it.”

“Next morning I was up betimes -- I sent the Crier round,
All with his bell and gold-laced hat to say I'd give a pound
To find that little vulgar Boy, who'd gone and used me so;
But when the Crier cried, 'O Yes!”

“I'll beat him so bad he'll need a shoehorn to put his hat on.”

“I haven't seen this chap's boots yet, but I should say from his knock he's a good opinion of himself.”

“I'm not the man to say that failure's sweet,
Nor tell a chap to laugh when things go wrong;
I know it hurts to have to take defeat
An' no one likes to lose before a throng;
It isn't very pleasant not to win
When you have done the very best you could;
But if you're down, get up an' buckle in—
A lickin' often does a fellow good.”

“I can't understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: It's like going round explaining how you sleep with your wife.”

“Did not Jupiter transforme himselfe into the shape of Amphitrio to embrace Alcmæna; into the form of a swan to enjoy Leda; into a Bull to beguile Io; into a showre of gold to win Danae?”