There’s always a generation on the way:
More than we want, sometimes, or there is room for.
Lord, how they swarm! In the cities like flies.
If only horses were so plentiful!
If only horses could be foddered so lightly
And bedded so many to a stall as men!
Certainly, men are less of a bother
And also, think what men do for you that a horse can’t.
You cannot teach a horse to hold a gun.
A horse can’t shoot or burn or pillage or murder well in the least.