“Arise, arise, Riders of Théoden!Fell deeds awake, fire and slaughter!spear shall be shaken, shield be splintered,a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!Ride now, ride now! Ride to Gondor!”

“Arise now, arise, Riders of Théoden!Dire deeds awake, dark is it eastward.Let horse be bridled, horn be sounded!Forth Eorlingas!”

“Let this be the hour when we draw swords together. Fell deeds awake. Now for wrath, now for ruin, and the red dawn. Forth, Eorlingas!”

“Now shall I walk or shall I ride?'Ride,' Pleasure said;'Walk,' Joy replied.”

“I now have an erection that is probably tall enough to ride some of the scarier rides at Great America without a parent.”

“And in me too the wave rises. It swells; it arches its back. I am aware once more of a new desire, something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back. What enemy do we now perceive advancing against us, you whom I ride now, as we stand pawing this stretch of pavement? It is death. Death is the enemy. It is death against whom I ride with my spear couched and my hair flying back like a young man's, like Percival's, when he galloped in India. I strike spurs into my horse. Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!”