My Rifle Famous Quotes & Sayings
100 My Rifle Famous Sayings, Quotes and Quotation.
Somebody comin'," he said softly. "Five or six, maybe." His words were spoken over an empty fire, for each of us vanished ghostlike into the surrounding darkness. I, fortunately, had the presence of mind to retain my coffee. With the Ferguson rifle in my right hand, I drank coffee from the cup in my left.— Louis L'Amour
You're hurt." He drew her close, cradling her face in bloodstained fingers. "The rifle banged my nose, is all." She could barely breathe through the swollen tissues now. "Forget about me." "Never." The intensity of that word pulled her straight into his soul. She clung to him, every fiber fixed on one hope - to find a way through this turmoil of blood and snow to a life in the sun with Jesse Bird, to bear his children and keep his hearth and make for him a haven from the world's calamity. She poured it into her eyes, giving back the unreserved devotion he'd shown her all along.— Lori Benton
Gay People can't do this. Women shouldn't be able to that. But touch my semiautomatic rifle and you're attacking my rights.— Remi Kanazi
That brow arched once more. "Does it? You think people will believe it when the truth is that I ruined you on an abandoned estate before your father stormed the house with a rifle?"— Sarah MacLean
She hesitated. "I would not call it storming."
"He fired several rounds at my house. If that isn't storming, I don't know what is.
We have a shotgun we inherited from my father-in-law, a paranoid Englishman living in Texas. I have a .22 Marlin rifle, similar to the one Annie Oakley had, and my husband has a .357 Magnum pistol. All those are locked up tight, of course. We have a couple of pellet guns that get more use than the real guns.— Bonnie Jo Campbell
In my world, you don't get to call yourself "pro-life" and be against common-sense gun control - like banning public access to the kind of semiautomatic assault rifle, designed for warfare, that was used recently in a Colorado theater. You don't get to call yourself "pro-life" and want to shut down the Environmental Protection Agency, which ensures clean air and clean water, prevents childhood asthma, preserves biodiversity and combats climate change that could disrupt every life on the planet. You don't get to call yourself "pro-life" and oppose programs like Head Start that provide basic education, health and nutrition for the most disadvantaged children ... The term "pro-life" should be a shorthand for respect for the sanctity of life. But I will not let that label apply to people for whom sanctity for life begins at conception and ends at birth. What about the rest of life? Respect for the sanctity of life, if you believe that it begins at conception, cannot end at birth.— Thomas L. Friedman
I felt like an Israeli girl soldier, in shorts and the hot wind, sighting down the barrel of the rifle, holding the .38 with both hands. It was a strange feeling, him looking at me as I aimed. I found I couldn't quite lose myself in the target. His eyes split my attention between the C in Coke and my awareness of him watching me. And I thought, this was what it was like to be beautiful.— Janet Fitch
For most of a day we walked through alkali flats, the white crust like a frosted layer of salt that rose in a powder when your boots punched through. We wore the chalk on us everywhere - up to our knees, in the creases of our fingers clenching the rifle strap, down in the cavity between my breasts, and in my mouth, too. I couldn't keep it out and stopped trying. I couldn't keep anything out, I realized, and that was something I loved about Africa. The way it got at you from the outside in and never let up, and never let you go.— Paula McLain
In order to drill into young men the need to stay alert and stay alive, I used to punish offenders with my fists, boots and rifle butt, and with stockade time.— David Hackworth
My own dream is that we discover that the NSA has been secretly keeping files on members of the National Rifle Association.— Gail Collins
Here, you drive," Erik said.— Tiffany Snow
"What? Why?"
"In case we do have to start shooting; I have a badge and you don't," he explained.
"Fine. But for the record, I'm a better shot than you are."
"For your information, I was the youngest kid awarded the rifle shooting merit badge in my troop," Erik said, holding the wheel as she climbed across him.
"Is that supposed to impress me?"
"Just enough to get you back into my bed." She took over the gas pedal and Erik slid out from underneath her.
"It takes more than fancy shooting," she said loftily, making a sharp turn.
Erik was thrown against the door. "Would you warn me before you do that?"
"It's a car chase!
Why should I have been surprised?— Mary Oliver
Hunters walk the forest
without a sound.
The hunter, strapped to his rifle,
the fox on his feet of silk,
the serpent on his empire of muscles
all move in a stillness,
hungry, careful, intent.
Just as the cancer
entered the forest of my body,
without a sound.
My spiritual pain is unbearable. I keep having the same unsolved question: if my rifle claimed people's lives, then can it be that I a Christian and an Orthodox believer, was to blame for their deaths?— Mikhail Kalashnikov
I did feel a concentrated dislike for those boys, who couldn't submit to the odd faithless girlfriend, needling classmate, or dose of working-single-parent distraction— Lionel Shriver
who couldn't serve their miserable time in their miserable public schools the way the rest of us did
without carving their dime-a-dozen problems ineluctably into the lives of other families. It was the same petty vanity that drove these boys' marginally saner contemporaries to scrape their dreary little names into national monuments. And the self-pity! That nearsighted Woodham creature apparently passed a note to one of his friends before staging a tantrum with his father's deer rifle: "Throughout my life I was ridiculed. Always beaten, always hated. Can you, society, blame me for what I do?" And I thought, Yes, you little shit! In a heartbeat!
Besides, it seems to me, since my pleasure is more or less a foregone conclusion, the main object of the exercise ought to be your pleasure. A rather elusive creature, I've heard. Fascinating sort of quarry.' 'Wait a minute. You're hunting down my orgasms?' His laughter burst out like a rifle salute. 'Kate. You damned magnificent creature.' He rolled onto his back, bringing me with him. 'Yes, my darling. That's exactly what I'd like to do, on and on until the end of my life.— Beatriz Williams
I've nothing against people as a general rule, but people don't tend to have the sort of answers I'm looking for." The fence post just above Jackaby's head exploded in a spray of splinters with a resonating BLAM! A woman stood in the open doorway across from him, a plain white apron tied around her waist and a fat-barreled rifle in her hands. "Of course, people do have a way of surprising you from time to time," my employer added.— William Ritter
I shall yield a rifle of fury, loaded with the justice of time and the raging storm of my soul!— Quoleena Sbrocca
My work is my life, and my life is my work. I invented this assault rifle to defend my country. Today, I am proud that it has become for many synonymous with liberty.— Mikhail Kalashnikov
Legend says Gabriel's trumpet will sound the last judgment. I do the same sort of thing with my rifle.— Jack Coughlin
He looked at me very gravely, and put his arms around my neck. I felt his heart beating like the heart of a dying bird, shot with someone's rifle ...— Antoine De Saint-Exupery
Two of my favorite things are my steering wheel and my Remington rifle.— Dale Earnhardt
I should learn to run, to wrestle, to swim, to ride horses, to row, to drive a car, to fire a rifle. I should fill my soul with flesh. I should fill my flesh with soul. In fact, I should reconcile at last within me the two internal antagonists.— Nikos Kazantzakis
You won't," says the Mayor, smiling again. "Everyone knows you aren't a killer, Todd."— Patrick Ness
He pushes Viola forward again -
She calls out from the pain of it -
Viola, I think -
Viola -
I grit my teeth and raise the rifle -
I cock it -
And I say what's true -
"I would kill to save her," I say.
I am a southerner who grew up with and around guns. I own some still. My father gave me a .22 rifle when I was 9 and a single barrel .410 shotgun when I was 10.— Jon Meacham
But now, for the first time, I see you are a man like me. I thought of your hand-grenades, of your bayonet, of your rifle; now I see your wife and your face and our fellowship. Forgive me, comrade. We always see it too late. Why do they never tell us that you are poor devils like us, that your mothers are just as anxious as ours, and that we have the same fear of death, and the same dying and the same agony— Erich Maria Remarque
Forgive me, comrade; how could you be my enemy?
If I could have chosen a flag back then, it would have been embroidered with a portrait of Malcolm X, dressed in a business suit, his tie dangling, one hand parting a window shade, the other holding a rifle. The portrait communicated everything I wanted to be - controlled, intelligent, and beyond the fear. I would buy tapes of Malcolm's speeches - "Message to the Grassroots," "The Ballot or the Bullet" - down at Everyone's Place, a black bookstore on North Avenue, and play them on my Walkman. Here was all the angst I felt before the heroes of February, distilled and quotable. "Don't give up your life, preserve your life," he would say. "And if you got to give it up, make it even-steven." This was not boasting - it was a declaration of equality rooted not in better angels or the intangible spirit but in the sanctity of the black body.— Ta-Nehisi Coates
I recognized Meg's swirly handwriting and crooked my index finger into the side of the envelope to rip it open. There was no letter. Just a picture.— Laura Anderson Kurk
A picture of Meg holding a picture of me.
The word HOME echoed through my body like a rifle shot.
These kids spend a majority of their time in school, and if they're not having a positive experience, they can become depressed. In some cases, they lash out, grabbing whatever weapon is available to them. It can be an assault rifle, a knife, a Molotov cocktail, poison, Indian burns or MMA. But if you take one weapon away, these kids are just going to grab the next thing available to them. Maybe they will use a gun with a smaller clip, limiting the amount of lives they can take. Or maybe they'll get more creative, and think of something far more terrible. So taking a weapon away won't really solve anything, and this is my point here.— Aaron B. Powell
Sir? What are you doing?" I asked. "Investigating," Jackaby replied flatly. "Well, you can't just walk into someone's yard unannounced. Besides, doesn't investigating usually involve questioning people?" "I've nothing against people as a general rule, but people don't tend to have the sort of answers I'm looking for." The fence post just above Jackaby's head exploded in a spray of splinters with a resonating BLAM! A woman stood in the open doorway across from him, a plain white apron tied around her waist and a fat-barreled rifle in her hands. "Of course, people do have a way of surprising you from time to time," my employer added. The— William Ritter
She looked from Wade to the rifle and back again. "Not as long as you know how to use that thing." When he cocked a brow Nikki couldn't resist the urge to add, "Just 'cause you've got the tool, doesn't mean you know how to use it."— Victoria Vane
"Don't worry, sweetheart," he replied with a dangerous look. "I know good and well how to use all my tools. But if you need convincing, I'm happy to demonstrate.
At 7:45 p.m. I was shot in the left arm by a friend. The bullet was a copper jacket 22 long rifle. My friend was standing about fifteen feet from me.— Chris Burden
With that, Quincy brought the bowie knife down on Moon's cuffed hand and chopped off four fingers which flew up before my eyes like chips from a log. Moon screamed and a rifle ball shattered the lantern in front of me and struck Quincy in the neck, causing hot blood to spurt on my face. My thought was: I am better out of this.— Charles Portis
I don't have time every day to put on make up. I need that time to clean my rifle.— Henriette Mantel
Minutes passed, each pulling my hopes down a little lower from the heights to which they had soared, and then, when tension on my nerves and the weight of the heavy rifle were becoming unbearable, I heard a stick snap at the upper end of the thicket. Here was an example of how a tiger can move through the jungle. From the sound she had made I knew her exact position, had kept my eyes fixed on the spot, and yet she had come, seen me, stayed some time watching me, and then gone away without my having seen a leaf or a blade of grass move.— Jim Corbett
Is this a habit of yours?" he asks.— Anne Eliot
"What?"
"Dropping stuff whenever you first see me? It's kind of cute. Flattering," he adds, straightening while easily holding all of my stuff in his giant arms.
I've recovered enough to roll my eyes. "Maybe the habit is connected to your urge to rifle through my private things every time you see me?"
"It's possible. Your stuff is so randomly interesting." He eyes my science kit and then scans through the pile of papers in his hands. "You got any other lists that need checking off? College tuition aside, I'm also trying to save for a new car." He laughs.
I knew he was ready, and we entered the hallway. I shouldered my rifle and squeezed off several rounds to make sure he was down. The— Mark Owen
And then I went back into my room, locked into a sequence as perfect as a pattern, and I sat down on my great rock throne, invisible to the outside world but palpable beneath me, and from how my face felt I thought maybe I was crying, either because I didn't want to do this or because I did, it was hard to tell and anyway I never would, who would believe me in either case and who would be there to believe me in all cases, it was a puzzle, I had yet to learn the way of the jigsaw, and so I positioned the rifle beneath my chin, it feels cold, like an actual thing in the actual present physical world, OK, there it is, I am here now, and then I lay down on my belly and listened to the rising squall beyond the door.— John Darnielle
A massive beast dashed along the mountain apex.— Ilona Andrews
Astamur reached for his rifle. "A demon?"
"No, not a demon." I might have preferred one . "That's my boyfriend."
Atsany and the shepherd turned to look at me. "Boyfriend?" Astamur said.
Curran saw us. He paused on a stone crag and roared. The raw declaration of strength cracked through the mountains, rolling down the cliffs like a rockslide. "Yep. Don't worry. He's harmless.
I'm sure you remember Lieutenant Tarbic."— E.J. Fisch
"I do. I must say he looked better through my rifle scope.
I walked up to the house, rubbing my shoulder where it still hurt from the rifle's recoil. But soon, it wouldn't hurt because I would get used to it. It was amazing to me, what a person could get used to.— Augusten Burroughs
I lifted my rifle and peered through the military scope at a snowroughened landscape, scanning the dead cornstalks and winter-stripped trees for wild boar.— Eleni Kounalakis
The Japanese fought to win - it was a savage, brutal, inhumane, exhausting and dirty business. Our commanders knew that if we were to win and survive, we must be trained realistically for it whether we liked it or not. In the post-war years, the U.S. Marine Corps came in for a great deal of undeserved criticism in my opinion, from well-meaning persons who did not comprehend the magnitude of stress and horror that combat can be. The technology that developed the rifle barrel, the machine gun and high explosive shells has turned war into prolonged, subhuman slaughter. Men must be trained realistically if they are to survive it without breaking, mentally and physically.— Eugene B. Sledge
I'm probably more comfortable inside a Marine Corps rifle company than I am anywhere in my life.— Jim Webb
Then, Zil and a half dozen of his crew swaggered into the plaza from the far side. Astrid clenched her jaw. Would the crowd turn on them? She almost hoped so. People thought because she wouldn't let Sam go after Zil she must not really despise the Human Crew's Leader. That was wrong. She hated Zil. Hated everything he had done and everything he had tried to do.— Michael Grant
Edilio moved quickly between Zil and a few of the boys who had started toward him, sticks and knives at the ready.
Zil's kids were armed with knives and bats, and so were those who wanted to take them on. Edilio was armed with an assault rifle.
Astrid hated that this was what life so often came down to: my weapon is bigger than your weapon.
If Sam were here it would be about his hands. Everyone had either seen what Sam could do, or heard the stories retold in vivid detail. No one challenged Sam.
When I was a young kid, almost every other show on television was a Western. And some of them were part of my childhood, I loved them. Like, Rifle Man, I absolutely adored. So, I think everything comes in a cycle.— Tony Todd
Some people fast, some people go on a cruise or visit a day spa. I get out in the woods with a rifle or a bow. That's my release.— Chris Pratt
They put a rifle in my hand, sent me off to a foreign land to go and kill the Yellow man.— Bruce Springsteen
My object is to live in a place that does not call itself 'the community with a heart.' I want one of those godforsaken towns where all the young people leave and the rest sit on the porch with a rifle across their knees.— Florence King
My mom had told me the stories about the first few years she'd lived here. The way she told it, she was such a criminal even the most God-fearing church ladies got bored of reporting on her; she did the marketing on Sunday, dropped by any church she liked or none at all, was a feminist (which Mrs. Asher sometimes confused with communist), a Democrat (which Mrs. Lincoln pointed out practically had "demon" in the word itself), and worst of all, a vegetarian (which ruled out any dinner invitations from Mrs. Snow). Beyond that, beyond not being a member of the right church or the DAR or the National Rifle Association, was the fact that my mom was an outsider.— Kami Garcia
They are examin'd skeptickally. "Not from the Press, are you?" " 'Pon my Word," cry both Surveyors at once. "Drummers of some kind's my guess," puts in a Countryman, his Rifle at his Side, "am I right, Gents?" "What'll we say?" mutters Mason urgently to Dixon. "Oh, do allow me," says Dixon to Mason. Adverting to the Room, "Why aye, Right as a Right Angle, we're out here to ruffle up some business with any who may be in need of Surveying, London-Style, - Astronomickally precise, optickally up-to-the-Minute, surprisingly cheap. The Behavior of the Stars is the most perfect Motion there is, and we know how to read it all, just as you'd read a Clock-Face. We have Lenses that never lie, and Micrometers fine enough to subtend the Width of a Hair upon a Martian's Eye-ball. This looks like a bustling Town, plenty of activity in the Land-Trades, where think yese'd be a good place to start?" with an amiability that Mason recognizes as peculiarly Quaker, - Friendly Business.— Thomas Pynchon
You're a good shot, it doesn't matter how much stopping power a gun has." "If you're a good shot," I said solemnly, raising a hand to my breast, "you're probably already using a rifle.— Brandon Sanderson
(So I heard the boom of my fathr's rifle when he shot my best friend.) A bullet only costs about two cents, and anybody can afford that.(14)— Sherman Alexie
Look, I probably shouldn't tell someone holding a high-powered semiautomatic rifle this, but you're really starting to get on my nerves.— Rick Yancey
When I was in my routine training for the Israeli army as a teenager, they discovered completely by chance that I was a lethal sniper. I could hit the target smack in the center further away than anyone could believe. Not just that, even though I was tiny and not even much of an athlete, I was incredibly accurate throwing hand grenades too. Even today I can load a Sten automatic rifle in a single minute, blindfolded.— Ruth Westheimer
free." On the edge of town, Fitzgerald saw a sight "that has never left my memory. It was a picture story of the death of one 82nd Airborne trooper. He had occupied a German foxhole and made it his personal Alamo. In a half circle around the hole lay the bodies of nine German soldiers. The body closest to the hole was only three feet away, a potato masher [grenade] in its fist.II The other distorted forms lay where they had fallen, testimony to the ferocity of the fight. His ammunition bandoliers were still on his shoulders, empty of M-1 clips. Cartridge cases littered the ground. His rifle stock was broken in two. He had fought alone and, like many others that night, he had died alone. "I looked at his dog tags. The name read Martin V. Hersh. I wrote the name down in a small prayer book I carried, hoping someday I would meet someone who knew him. I never did."34— Stephen E. Ambrose
We spoke about our dreams and how we always felt safe in them, no matter how bad everthing else seemed. He told me it was one of the best days of his life and then he took out his gun. A .22 rifle. And he leaned forward and whispered, "Forgive me, Taylor Markham." Before I could ask how he knew my name and what I was to forgive him for he said, "Take care of my little girl."— Melina Marchetta
And then he told me to close my eyes.
And I've been frightened to do just that ever since.
The echoes of my knock were still ringing when the door swung open, revealing a short, cheerfully curvy woman with spiky brown hair streaked with bleach-white lines that looked more accidental than anything else. She was wearing an electric orange T-shirt that read DO NOT TAUNT THE OCTOPUS, jeans, and a lab coat, and was pointing a hunting rifle at the middle of my chest.— Mira Grant
You're enjoying this, aren't you?"— Laurell K. Hamilton
I'd feel better if I could guard your back."
You're going to do that with a rifle from the closest hill, remember."
Night vision and scope, fine, but I can't kill them all from a distance."
You couldn't kill them all if you were johnny on the spot, either," I said.
No but I'd feel better."
Worried about me?" He shrugged.
I'm your bodyguard. If you die under my protection, the other bodyguards will make fun of me." It took me a second to realize he was making a joke. Harley looked back at him with an almost surprised look. I don't think either of us heard humor from Edward much.
And where were you when my mate was— Alanea Alder
shooting ferals with a damn sniper rifle?" he demanded, exhaustion adding a bite to his words.
Ryuu gave him a flat look. "Holding her ammunition.
I had the whole road to myself, for no one was yet stirring, and I walked on, with a slouching, dogged gait. The gray shooting-jacket was on my back, and from the end of my brother's rifle hung a small bundle of my clothes. My fingers worked moodily at the stock and trigger, and I thought that this indeed was the way to begin life, with a gun in your hand!— Herman Melville
Free, I think. They're free.— Patrick Ness
(is this why she joined them?)
I feel so-
So relieved.
I pick up the pace as I near the opening, my hands gripping my rifle but I have a feeling I ain't gonna need it.
(ah, Viola, I knew I could count-)
Then I reach the opening and stop.
Everything stops.
My stomach falls right thru my feet.
"They're all gone?" Davy says, coming up beside me.
Then he see what I see.
"What the-?" Davy says.
The Spackle ain't all gone.
They're still here.
Every single one.
All 1150 of them.
Dead.
Lev loosened his grip on me to raise Mal's rifle, but I whirled on him, bringing the mirror up, blinding him. "What the - " he grunted, squinting. Before he could recover, I slammed a knee into his groin. As he bent double, I put my hands on the back of his head and brought my knee up hard. There was a disgusting crunch, and I stepped backward as he fell to the ground clutching his nose, blood spurting between his fingers. "I did it!" I exclaimed. Oh, if only Botkin could see me now. "Come on!" Mal said, distracting me from my jubilation.— Leigh Bardugo
The woman raised her voice. "I said, what are you doing?"— Christopher Moore
Tommy kept typing and looked up. "Pardon me, I was ignoring you. What did you say?"
"What are you doing?" She repeated.
"It's a note. Let me read it for you. 'Couldn't anyone else see that they were all slaves of Satan? I had to cleanse the world of their evil. I am the hand of God. Why else would security have let me into the building with an assault rifle in my suitcase? I am a divine instrument.' " Tommy paused and looked up. "That's all I have so far, but I'll guess I end it with an apology to my mom. What do you think?"
She smiled as if hiding gas pains and handed him an envelope.
Why do you have to be out of town to write a postcard? I want a to write a postcard to my neighbor: "I still live near you!" The guy sees me go into my apartment, flips the card over, it's just a picture of me holding a rifle.— Jim Gaffigan
So there would be two of them, probably armed, which probably meant guns, since this was Miami. And it might mean Bobby Acosta, too, who would have some kind of weapon, since he was a wealthy fugitive. And I was in a small room with no place to hide, and I was burdened with Samantha, who would probably yell, "Watch out!" at them if I tried to surprise them. On the plus side, my heart was pure and I had a bent tire iron. It wasn't much, but I have learned that if you examine the situation carefully, you can almost always find a way to improve your odds. I stood up and looked around the room, thinking that someone might have left an assault rifle lying on a shelf; I even made myself touch the jars and look behind them, but no such luck. "Hey," Samantha said. "If you're thinking, like, you know - I mean, I don't want to be rescued or anything.— Jeff Lindsay
The handgun would not be my choice of weapon if I knew I was going to a fight ... I'd choose a rifle, a shotgun, an RPG or an atomic bomb instead.— Clint Smith
Edward Abbey said you must "brew your own beer; kick in you Tee Vee; kill your own beef; build your cabin and piss off the front porch whenever you bloody well feel like it." I already had a good start. As a teenager in rural Maine, after we came to America, I had learned hunting, fishing, and trapping in the wilderness. My Maine mentors had long ago taught me to make home brew. I owned a rifle, and I'd already built a log cabin. The rest should be easy. I thought I'd give it a shot.— Bernd Heinrich
Street's disciple, my raps are trifle.— Nas
I shoot slugs from my brain just like a rifle.
I had had to discard my rifle— Edgar Rice Burroughs
I shoot the same rifle I've shot since I killed my first deer with it when I was nine.— Boo Weekley
My car contained guns, bundles of cash I'd found hidden about the house, and boxes of vintage pornography. If I got pulled over and searched, I'd probably go to jail. If I had a wreck, money and porn would litter the interstate, mixed with my funeral suit, my grandfather's rifle, a shotgun, three hundred rounds of ammunition, the remnants of my father's ashes, and whatever was left of me.— Chris Offutt
My dad, Frank Addison Albini, was a terrific shot with a rifle and had generally excellent hunting skills. While my dad loved hunting and fishing, he didn't romanticize them. He was filling the freezer, not intellectualizing some caveman impulse or proving his worth as a real man.— Steve Albini
Danny Dietz died right there in my arms. I don't know how quickly hearts break, but that nearly broke mine ... I had to leave him or else die out here with him. But I knew one thing was certain. I still had my rifle and I was not alone, and neither was Danny, a devout Roman Catholic. I left him with God.— Marcus Luttrell
Even after years of war, some men retained scruples about licensed— Max Hastings
homicide. [ ... ] Lieutenant Peter Downward commanded the sniper
platoon of 13 Para. He had never himself killed a man with a rifle,
but one day he found himself peering at a German helmet just visible
at the corner of an air-raid shelter
an enemy sniper.
I had his head spot in the middle of my telescopic sight, my safety
catch was off, but I simply couldn't press the trigger. I suddenly
realised that I had a young man's life in my hands, and for the cost
of one round, about twopence, I could wipe out eighteen or nineteen
years of human life. My dithering deliberations were brought back to
earth with a bump as Kirkbride suddenly shouted: 'Go on, sir. Shoot
the bastard! He's going to fire again.' I pulled the trigger and saw
the helmet jerk back. I had obviously got him, and felt completely
drained ... What had I done?
![My Rifle Sayings By Max Hastings: Even after years of war, some men retained scruples about licensedhomicide. [ ... ] Lieutenant](https://www.greatsayings.net/images/my-rifle-sayings-by-max-hastings-1550876.jpg "My Rifle Sayings By Max Hastings: Even after years of war, some men retained scruples about licensedhomicide. [ ... ] Lieutenant")
I've always tried to play golf with a golf club. I have a hard time driving with my rifle. I mean, 18 is really narrow ... I have no problem with the course, except for the tee shot on 18.— Jack Nicklaus
Oh how lovely to hear the birds!' an elderly friend recently exclaimed. I smiled, 'Yes, isn't it?' Actually it reminded me of living in my ex's flat; those early mornings being woken up by the incessant chirping of baby birds and myself at the window with an air rifle. Good times. Because that's the other thing about working alone for long periods of time, you begin to get nostalgic about all the rubbish.— Emily Benet
There was a time when my parents had to sell off a plot of land so that I can buy a rifle for competitive tournaments. After that we stayed in a rented house for the next 15 years.— Gagan Narang
I was a model Marine.. My rifle was always clean, uniform always starched, and the shoes always shined. I guess that's how I became so neat-sort of the Felix Unger of baseball roomates. Blame it on the Marines.— Jay Johnstone
My mind is like a little house,— Margo T. Rose
My peers break into.
They rearrange my furniture,
And the cabinets rifle through.
They throw things out;
They put things in,
And erase the writing on the wall,
And by the time that they walk out,
It's not my mind at all.
Letter Composed During a Lull in the Fighting"— Kevin C. Powers
I tell her I love her like not killing
or ten minutes of sleep
beneath the low rooftop wall
on which my rifle rests.
I tell her in a letter that will stink,
when she opens it,
of bolt oil and burned powder
and the things it says.
I tell her how Pvt. Bartle says, offhand,
that war is just us
making little pieces of metal
pass through each other.
Back around the counter to fetch my rifle. Rifle, sidearm, knife, a couple of flash grenades. And one more thing, the most essential weapon in my arsenal: a heart full of rage.— Rick Yancey
In my opinion, the M1 rifle is the greatest battle implement ever devised— George S. Patton
Edward still had the rifle up, sighted on Titus. Aikensen seemed frozen, standing there with the bloody knife. "Put it down, blondie, right now, or she's dead." "Edward." "Anita," he said. His voice sounded like it always did. We both knew he could drop Titus, but if the man's finger twitched while he died, I died, too. Choices. "Do it," I said. He pulled the trigger. Titus jerked back against the bars. Blood splattered over my face. A glob of something thicker than blood slid down my cheek. I breathed in shallow gasps. Titus slumped along the bars, gun still gripped in his hands.— Laurell K. Hamilton
At this moment I pulled trigger, as I knew not what else to do and hardly knew that I did this, but it accidentally happened that my rifle was pointed towards the bear when I pulled and the ball piercing his heart, he gave one bound from me, uttered a deathly howl and fell dead, but I trembled as if I had an ague fit for half an hour after. We butchered him, as he was very fat, packed the meat and skin on our horses and returned to the fort with the trophies of our bravery, but I secretly determined in my own mind never to molest another wounded grizzly bear in a marsh or thicket.— Osborne Russell
Soldier! Let me cradle your head and caress your face, let me kiss your dear sweet lips and cry across the seas and whisper through the icy Russian grass how I feel for you ... Luga, Ladoga, Leningrad, Lazarevo ... Alexander, once you carried me, and now I carry you. Into my eternity, now I carry you.— Paullina Simons
Through Finland, through Sweden, to America, hand outstretched, I stand and limp forward, the galloping steed black and riderless in my wake. Your heart, your rifle, they will comfort me, they'll be my cradle and my grave.
Lazarevo drips you into my soul, dawn drop by moonlight drop from the river Kama. When you look for me, look for me there, because that's where I will be all the days of my life. (Tatiana)
I stood there with the rifle in my hands, that I first grasped the hallowness,— George Orwell
the futility of the white man with his gun, standing in front of the unarmed native crowd
seemingly the leading actor of the piece ;
but in reality I was only an absurd puppet pushed to and fro by the will of those yellow faces behind.
I perceived in this moment that when the white man turns tyrant it is his own freedom that he destroys.
He becomes a sort of hollow, posing dummy, the conventionalized figure of sahib.
For it is the condition of his rule that he shall spend his life in trying to impress the "natives", and so in every crises he has got to do what the "natives" expect of him.
People often ask me how I feel about my invention being used to kill people every day and the AK being a common weapon of ethnic conflicts. I want to make it clear that I created my assault rifle to protect my country. You can blame politicians for its spreading out of control on a global scale.— Mikhail Kalashnikov
The war is going on, and I'm singing. But I can't bandage up the wounded like Tala. I can, of course. But so can hundreds of other young women. Let the daring and decisive ones do it, not those like me. No, I'm daring and decisive, too. And I want to sing. It's not my fault that my youth came in time of war! I won't get another youth! And I'm convinced that singing when all around is hatred and death is no less important. Maybe even more important.— Mikhail Shishkin
This is what I believe: If somewhere on earth the wounded are finished off with rifle butts, that means somewhere else people have to be singing and rejoicing in life! The more death there is around, the more important to counter it with life, love, and beauty!
I wish it to be remembered that I was the last man of my tribe to surrender my rifle.— Sitting Bull
Antonio, I speak to you from beyond the grave, in seriousness. I have loved you with all my shameful heart, as much as I once loved Francisco, and I have conquered any envy that I might have felt. If a dead man may have a wish, it is that you should find your future with Pelagia. She is beautiful and sweet, there is no one who deserves you more, and no one else worthy of you. I wish that you will have children together, and I wish that once or twice you will tell them about their Uncle Carlo that they never saw. As for me, I hoist my knapsack on my shoulders and buckle the webbing, I put my arm through the sling of my rifle, and I open the veil to march into the unknown as soldiers always will. Remember me.— Louis De Bernieres
Carlo.
All our moves are based on four general principles: continued use of the rifle, no waiving of historical rights, no peace, and no negotiations ... Whatever form of government is established in the territory when the shadow of occupation passes away, whenever I address my fighters and revolutionaries, I shall say: 'Let our rifles be aimed at the beloved land, the land of the homeland, the land of Palestine— Yasser Arafat
As a child Valentine's Day was fun. You got to design your own little heart-laden box to accept all your classmate's Valentine's. Then you'd get to fill in the To: and From: fields on your G.I. Joe cards (because nothing says "Be Mine" like Snake Eyes). I remember each time taking extra special care when filling out a card for the girl who I happened to like that particular year. When the day arrived and cards were exchanged I would rifle through my haul finding the one from whichever girl it was and kept it apart from the others. It was special even though I'm sure she'd written the exact same thing on mine that she'd written on everyone else's. No matter, love was given and received. Valentine's Day was for a young boy not yet mature enough to express his affections and for him to hold fast to even a token expression from the object those affections.— Aaron Blaylock
Ho! We are being taunted by some sort of otherworldly fireflies. Someone fetch me my rifle!— Tad Williams
Occasionally I'll just pull out a rifle and shoot one of my audience members. So far there have been no complaints filed.— Thom Yorke
It would be nice, after this was over, to take a long raft trip. Maybe Jen and I could paddle through Westwater and its ass-clenching rapids, then lounge on the banks in Moab for a week or two. That would be heaven: a raft trip with a beer in my hand instead of a rifle. I— Erik Storey
Charlayne is in front of me, holding a rifle identical to the one in my hand, raised to shoulder height and pointed at Kiernan, who's sitting on the bed. He looks more bored than afraid.— Rysa Walker
My nostrils dilate while savoring the acrid odor of gunpowder and blood ... Crazy with fury I will stain my rifle red while slaughtering any surrendered enemy that falls in my hands! With the deaths of my enemies I prepare my being for the sacred fight and join the triumphant proletariat with a bestial howl!— Che Guevara
He held up the AK-47, the muscles in his arm bunching against the weight. "This is an assault rifle." Then held up the handgun. "This is a semi-automatic pistol."— Pamela Clare
Then he gave a little thrust of his hips and looked down at his penis. "That is my gun. As you've discovered, it's pumpaction like a shotgun , but it doesn't fire bullets.
What was in the trunk?" I asked, and my eyes widened when he opened his coat and let me glimpse a big-ass rifle.— Kim Harrison
"I know these people," he said, his expression going hard. "We handle their insurance.
When I lost my rifle, the Army charged me 85 dollars. That is why in the Navy the Captain goes down with the ship.— Dick Gregory
