Excerpt from Florian
Florian stood in the center. To his right stood three older stallions, thoroughly trained, and to his left three equally tested ones. He resembled a fiery youth among men. In a row of white steeds he stood out as the only pure white one. His snowy skin, unmarred by a single speck, called up memories of cloudless sunny days, of nature’s gracious gifts. His liquid dark eyes, from whose depths his very soul shone forth, sparkled with inner fire and energy and health. Ennsbauer sat in the saddle like a carved image . With his brown frock-coat, his chiseled, reddish brown features, and his fixed mien, he seemed to have been poured in metal.
Florian strode as those horses strode who, centuries ago, triumphantly and conscious of their triumphant occasion, bore Caesars and conquerors into vanquished cities or in homecoming processions. The rigid curved neck, such as the ancient sculptors modeled; the heavy short body that seemed to rock on the spring of his legs, the interplay of muscle and joint, together constituted stately performance, one that amazed more as it gradually compelled the recognition of its rising out of the will to perfect performance. Every single movement of Florian’s revealed nobility, grace, significance, and distinction all in one; and in each of his poses he was the ideal model for a sculptor , the composite of all equestrian statues in history.