Just then, down through the last glimmer of twilight, stepping high and free, like a cloud, a moth, a ghost in the shape of a horse — came the Silver…

- Elyne Mitchell

For God took a handful of blizzard snow, blew on it and created the horse.

- Elyne Mitchell

There was some rhythm, some ecstasy in this dance of flight that expressed the fact that happiness which touches depths and rises beyond physical con…

- Elyne Mitchell

Here, also, the future was cried aloud by the wind through the rocks, so that all those who heard would shiver, and then the liquid spring song of th…

- Elyne Mitchell

Legends of the Silver Stallion had been told for years now, whenever mountain stockmen met round the campfires or on the winding hill tracks. Songs w…

- Elyne Mitchell

Snow and dark, and the winter comes. Nothing remains the same.

- Elyne Mitchell