Best 2302 quotes in «gun quotes» category

Artifact As long as I can remember you kept the rifle-- your grandfather's an antique you called it- in your study, propped against the tall shelves that held your many books. Upright, beside those hard-worn spins, it was another backbone of your pas, a remnant I studied as if it might unlock-- like the skeleton key its long body resembled-- some door i had yet to find. Peering into the dark muzzle, I imagined a bullet as you described: spiraling through the bore and spinning straight for its target. It did not hit me then: the rifle I'd inherited showing me how one life is bound to another, that hardship endures. For years I admired its slender profile, until-- late one night, somber with drink--you told me it still worked, that you kept it loaded just in case, and I saw the rifle for what it is; a relic sharp as sorrow, the barrel hollow as regret.

A sea level adapted human is not mentally fit to fire a gun above 10,000 feet in altitude.

A sea level adapted police officer with a gun above 10,000 feet in altitude is a really bad idea.

A Shield for An Arrow, A Proof for a Gun, But Love Conquers Them All.

As she’d left, I’d glanced at her gun. This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.

Ayant entendu pendant la nuit des bruits étranges dans la cage d'escalier, elle acheta le lendemain au marché noir un 7 x 57 mm Mauser et des munitions et annonça à son mari, qui la regardait en fronçant les sourcils, qu'elle abattrait sans sommation tout inconnu qui franchirait le seuil de son appartement sans son autorisation. Quand Léon lui fit remarquer qu'un pistolet accroché au mur au premier acte devait servir à faire feu au second acte, elle haussa les épaules en répliquant que la vraie vie obéissait à d'autres lois que les pièces de théâtres russes. Et quand il voulut savoir pourquoi elle avait choisi précisément une arme allemande, elle lui répondit que les inspecteurs allemands, s'ils trouvaient des balles allemandes dans un cadavre allemand, chercheraient très probablement le coupable parmi les Allemands.

Enerjik bir insan için bir gün içinde bin tane gün vardır!

Before you're allowed to own a .44, your IQ should be higher than .44.

But the pistol, this Walther...it was as if it had been made for the express purpose of shooting people. With a chill Richie realized that was why it had been made. What else could you do with a pistol? Use it to light your cigarettes?

Cruel people are not only people who kill innocent people with guns. Individuals who steal from government coffers to enrich themselves at the expense of the poor are grossly cruel.

Daily mass killings are a uniquely American problem, because in America every halfwit can get his hands on a gun. You know what angry halfwits do in other countries? They throw potatoes.

Domination is a relationship, not a condition; it depends on the participation of both parties. Hierarchical power is not just the gun in the policeman's hand; it is just as much the obedience of the ones who act as if it is always pointed at them. It is not just the government and the executives and the armed forces; it extends through society from top to bottom, an interlocking web of control and compliance. Sometimes all it takes to be complicit in the oppression of millions is to die of natural causes.

Don't have to see," the pilot grunted. "Olga knows the way." "Funny name for an aircraft," Grace commented. "Is it after your wife?" "My gun." Grace stared at him. "You named your plane after a gun?" "It was a very good gun.

Every company’s supply chain should be its ultimate competitive weapon—not the gun with which you shoot yourself in the foot.

Good ideas never require guns; and if an idea requires guns, it is not a good idea!

For some soldiers, there is a greater war going on behind the gun's shadow of family and friends, than in front of the gun pointing at strange enemies.

Geraldine keeps her eyes trained on him as she slowly reaches into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her gun. “…Callo, I’m so sorry that your life ended up this way,” she sighs as she gets out of her side of the car, her feet burning from the cold as her high heels sink into the fallen snow. “Aren’t you scared?” “I’m you, Geraldine… I fell into the same trap as you, anyway,” Callo answers. His large eyes are shining with tears, but he doesn’t seem afraid in the least. “…The dead don’t feel anything, you know… not even guilt or regret. So, what is there to be afraid of?

Go home now. Keep away from the saloons. Save your money. You going to need it. [Someone shouted] 'What will we need it for, Mother?' For guns [I said].

Guns make losers feel like winners. That's why people who suck at life don't want to give up their guns.

Había recibido cinco balazos. Desconocedor feliz de la muerte, un gato de lo más ordinario lo rondaba con cierta perplejidad.

Gün içinde küçük bir macera bile o günü gerçek bir gün yapacaktır!

Her dakikanın her saniyesi veya her saatin her dakikası ya da her günün her saati sana ya keder ya da mutluluk getirme potansiyeli taşır!

Have as much fun as you can in life because you never know when it will end.

Hello heaven, goodbye gun.

Hold his tongue and he will shoot. Hold his gun and he will shout.

Her günün her sonu o günün en önemli zamanıdır çünkü geçmişinle yüzleşirsin ve yarına bir şans yakalarsın geçmiş hatalarını tekrar etmemek için!

He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling. “What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded. That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered. “I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.” “I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted. “You’re a lying mutant freak!” “They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted. Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people, dividing up between freaks and normals.” “They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all special and like their farts don’t stink.” That earned a laugh. “And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried. Angry cheers. Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd. He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.” “No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain. “You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me, man.” Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the freaks?” “Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that some thought?” Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.” “Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped, losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down before Sam ever gets the chance.” Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly normal, just like me and the rest of us." “I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.” “No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face. Someone yelled in pain. Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding his bruised hand, obviously shocked. Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to water and filled his head with stars. He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched forward to cover the shotgun. Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to protect Edilio. Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in the face. Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!” There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.

He wanted to reach through the phone and hug his partner, who was, for all intents and purposes, a large teddy bear with a gun.

He who lives by the sword, dies by the sword. (Unless the other guy has a gun!)

His head exploded. I’d never seen someone’s head explode. I never thought I would. Maybe in the movies, but not in real life. It’s amazing what a 12-gauge can do at close range.

He's prowling back and forth like a lion with distemper now. There's a shiny streak down one side of his face. "I shouldn't have let her go ahead - I ought to be hung! Something's gone wrong. I can't stand this any more!" he says with a choked sound. "I'm starting now -" "But how are you -" "Spring for it and fire as I go if they try to stop me." And then as he barges out, the fat lady waddling solicitously after him, "Stay there; take it if she calls - tell her I'm on the way-" He plunges straight at the street-door from all the way back in the hall, like a fullback headed for a touchdown. That's the best way. Gun bedded in his pocket, but hand gripping it ready to let fly through lining and all. He slaps the door out of his way without slowing and skitters out along the building, head and shoulders defensively lowered. It *was* the taxi, you bet. No sound from it, at least not at this distance, just a thin bluish haze slowly spreading out around it that might be gas-fumes if its engine were turning; and at his end a long row of un-colored spurts - of dust and stone-splinters - following him along the wall of the flat he's tearing away from. Each succeeding one a half yard too far behind him, smacking into where he was a second ago. And they never catch up. ("Jane Brown's Body")

He was Lenin in a Lamborghini. He was Gandhi with a gun

His fear-inflamed mind sent the control-signal to his finger-joint to fold back. The trigger sliced back. The blast seemed to lift the booth clear off the floor, drop it down again. A pin-wheel of vacancy appeared in the glass, flinging off shards and slivers.

How do YOU know what God meant? Did he whisper into your ear? Did he put the knife in your heart? Did he put a gun in your hand?

If you need a gun to do it with, you aren't doing it right." Sheriff Bud Smith.

I do not own a gun in the USA because I recognize that it may get you legally killed by law enforcement.

I don’t know what more to say... I did not follow up in the days to come. I did not, I did, I should, I could... Just like that, I let that entire ordeal go.

If you're one of those delusional 2nd Amendment types who believes you and your trailer park 'militia' might need to take on the Army, the Navy, the 101st Airborne and SEAL Team 6; not only should you be denied the right to bear arms -- but the right to your belt & shoelaces as well ... 'cause you're stark, ravin' batshit!!!

I always assume that anyone who approaches me in the USA has a gun.

If you do not like guns, then you should not be living in the USA.

If you're afraid to leave the house unless you're armed, you don't need a gun, you need a psychiatrist.

If you run, you better be faster than my gun. -Weasel to illegal aliens

It is not the gun that kills, it is the corrupt corporate governments lack of gun control.

I have my gun and my bible under my pillow, having to fight physically and spiritually is a foregone conclusion, I will kill whoever comes to kill me, no mercy.

I love my ex so much I printed out all his pictures. After all, I need him for target practice. And I just love customised toilet paper and doormats. My only regret is that those items don't bear his autograph.

I'm coming with you.” Riley insisted. “I've got a bulletproof vest and I'm a better sharpshooter than you. Don't mess with me.” Riley pushed past them and out the sliding exit doors. Stella turned to Stan, horrified. “Don't give me that look, Stells.” Stan muttered, following Riley. “Look at it this way, if the whole sharpshooter thing turns out to be a lie, she can pinch the hell out of anyone.” ~Riley Pembroke, Stan Darrow, "Sugar and Spies: Spy Sisters Book 1

I should have a gun.” “And you think I can provide it?” “Ask your biker gang buddies.” “They prefer the term ‘motorcycle club.’” “I’m sure they do.

I think we may have reached the point where guns need to be confiscated from police officers.

It is not the gun that kills, it is the crazy person who was able to legally buy a firearm.

It's a machine gun," Fritz pointed out. 'Of course it will help.