Dick Francis
Dick Francis
Richard Stanley "Dick" Francis CBE FRSLwas a British steeplechase jockey and crime writer, whose novels centre on horse racing in England...
NationalityBritish
ProfessionHorse Jockey
Date of Birth31 October 1920
british-author extent people remained wondered
I wondered to what extent people remained the same as they'd been when very young; if one peeled back the layers of living one would come to the know child.
fire people ashes
How could people, I wondered for the ten thousandth useless time, how could people who had loved so dearly come to such a wilderness; and yet the change in us was irreversible, and neither of us would even search for a way back. It was impossible. The fire was out. Only a few live coals lurked in the ashes, searing unexpectedly at the incautious touch.
cancer people died
Historically, more people have died of religion than cancer.
people dont-trust-anyone cant-trust-anyone
People always kill Caesar. Don't trust anyone.
children people layers
THE KNOWN CHILD I wondered to what extent people remained the same as they'd been when very young; if one peeled back the layers of living one would come to the known child.
football fate people
Life has a way of kicking one along like a football, or so I've found. Fate had never dealt me personally a particularly easy time, but that was OK, that was normal. Most people, it seemed to me, took their turn to be football. Most survived. Some didn't.
against firmly hunt national riding women
I am firmly against women riding in National Hunt races.
asked console fact happened result terrible written
It was a terrible day. I can only console myself with the fact that if it hadn't happened I wouldn't have written a book. As a result I was asked to write my autobiography.
jobs believe giving
But people as a rule believe only what they want to believe, and if you tell them anything else they'll call you a trouble-maker and get rid of you and never give you your job back, even if what you said is proved spot on right by time.
mother running somewhere-else
I hadn’t had a mother since I was two, and from then until seven I had believed God was someone who had run off with her and was living with her somewhere else... (God took your mother, dear, because he needed her more than you do) which had never endeared him to me
men paper tissues
The dignity of man was everywhere tissue-paper thin.
law way crime
Crime to many is not crime but simply a way of life. If laws are inconvenient, ignore them, they dont apply to you.
character journey rough-times
Everyone journeys through character as well as through time. The person one becomes depends on the person one has been.
writing self tasks
Writing a novel proved to be the hardest, most self-analyzing task I had ever attempted, far worse than an autobiography: and its rewards were greater than I expected.