what he loved in horses was what he loved in men, the blood and the heat of the blood that ran them. All his reverence and all his fondness and all the leanings of his life were for the ardenthearted and they would always be so and never be otherwise.
(sras e srs, carson mccarthy. all the pretty horses. belos cavalos, na tradução portuguesa. primeiro volume da trilogia da fronteira)