http://www.livejournal.com/users/pandemo/461648.html
[The mare] set off for home with the speed of a swallow, and going as smoothly and silently. I never had dreamed of such a motion, fluent and graceful, and ambient, soft as the breeze flitting over the flowers, but swift as the summer lightning.
- -- Richard Doddridge Blackmore (1825-1900), English writer
