Quotes About Gunfire

Hierarchical male groups are good at mustering on the street and running into gunfire--another important task--but terrible at creating alliances.

O'Donnell later told a friend, House Speaker Tip O'Neill, that he had been pressured by the FBI not to say what he firmly believed, that gunfire had come from in front of the motorcade.

As writers and readers, as sinners and citizens, our realism and our aesthetic sense make us wary of crediting the positive note. The very gunfire braces us and the atrocious confers a worth upon the effort which it calls forth to confront it.

First comes smiles, then lies. Last is gunfire.-Roland Deschain, of Gilead

first the smiles, then the lies. Last comes gunfire.

I listen to the gunfire we cannot hear, and begin this journey with the light of knowing the root of my own furious love.

Gunfire tracking technology is improving every day and has been successful in many jurisdictions around the country.

Where I grew up - I grew up on the north side of Akron, lived in the projects. So those scared and lonely nights - that's every night. You hear a lot of police sirens, you hear a lot of gunfire. Things that you don't want your kids to hear growing up.

I listen to the gunfire we cannot hear, and begin this journey with the light of knowing the root of my own furious love.

She is awake. Again she thinks about fear. Until then, she had not been aware of fear, she had been convinced that she did not feel fear, not even when they had taken the group of men out from the gym, or when she had heard the burst of gunfire. She listens. She knows now that fear is the absence of all emotion, it is emptiness, it is as if your whole body is drained of blood all at once.

Mel Gibson saved a lot of lives. All those sideways shooters, they couldn't hit shit. We ought to make him like an honorary cop or something.

On the morning of Wednesday 13 March 1996, Thomas West Hamilton shattered the peaceful country town of Dunblane, Stirlingshire, with a fusillade of gunfire that reverberated round the world.

He's here to take revenge. A third shot thunders and I dart toward the blackness of the bush, am almost to the perimeter wire when I stumble over something and go down on my knees. I feel warm flesh, long tangled hair. And blood. One of the blondes. Instantly I'm back on my feet, fleeing blindly into the night. Hear bells clang as my boot snags the perimeter wire. The next bullet comes so close I can hear it whistle past.

Between 1968 and 2015, more than 1.5 million people were killed by shootings—more Americans than in all our wars combined.

Selena's brows rose even higher. "Trez, I heard something—" "—'cuz I'm that desperate to have you!" "—that sounded like a gun!" They were both hollering over the engine, going back and forth as Fritz bat-out-of-hell'd it away from all the bullets. And then the fun really began.

The clicking of gun hammers greeted Jade as he stumbled off the porch. Still gripping the back of his head, he shouted, "Relax! It's me, Marlow. He's pinned down on the property, so hold your positions." He walked behind the phalanx of cars. "I need to sit down a minute and then I'm going back in.

I think part of the problem is that many years ago, in Korea, Mike's brain adapted to continuous threat—his body and brain became oversensitive and overreactive to any threat-related signals from the world. Back then, to stay alive, his brain made a connection—basically a specialized form of memory—between the sounds of gunfire and shelling and the need to activate an extreme survival response." I paused. "Does that make sense?

Opening my door to Dillon Ruddick, my bulding super. I handed him a cup of coffee. Sorry about the blood. What was it this time? No one reported gunfire. I hit a guy in the face with a hair dryer. Whoa. Dillon said. It wasn't my fault, I told him. Maybe we should lay down some linoleum here. It would make things easier for clean up.

I live in a neighborhood so bad that you can get shot while getting shot.

We don't talk about the danger -- but what I imagine is a cartoon version, bullets flying and each boy a super hero, running, invincible, through a spray of gunfire.

I don't know. I just heard the shots." "Who are you? What is this place?" "I'm . . . I'm Sheila." "Who's the guy down there?" "Luke." "And who is Luke?" "Just a guy I know.

The great irony is that lobsters do not observe international boundaries. They are on the move toward the Gray Zone and beyond. No treaty or trap cutting or gunfire can stop them. Just a ban on fossil fuels.

FYI, there are basically only three things besides a vest that will stop a bullet: a tree trunk, the engine block of a car, and a U.S. mailbox: if you are ever caught in gunfire, find one of those.

The first time I saw Marcey Parker she was happily firing a submachine gun through a window.