Quotes About Rifle

I've got one of four known Davy Crocket rifles. It's fantastic just to know it's one of the rifles that he actually used. His cousin had it.

he looked like the kind of creep that would line her up in the sights of an assassin's rifle without a shred of emotion.

Winchester for

inside the entrance, along with his bow, otter skin quiver, and the case that held his rifle. She

Gribshin considered what he had just seen. He knew it was important. It belonged to the future, he was sure, but was it his future. He too was pleased by the sound the lock made as it closed: it was something predictive. In the echoing tintinnabulation of the lock's components colliding hard against each other were conjured the sonances of rifle shots and beyond them smoky images of milling crowds. The sounds and images vanished without revealing to Gribshin exactly what they promised.

To me the only pleasure in the hunt is the knowledge that the hunted thing has power to harm me as much as I have to harm him. If I went out with a couple of rifles and a gun bearer, and twenty or thirty beaters, to hunt a lion, I should not feel that the lion had much chance, and so the pleasure of the hunt would be lessened in proportion to the increased safety which I felt.

rifle to shoot at you?

I don't think anybody who carries a rifle carries the future. Because I don't believe that you can really change the world by killing and shooting. You have the change it by creating and competing.

Trying to figure out how to keep Sierra from breaking up with him. "At least I have a gun," Sam said. His Remington rifle, which he kept in his trunk next to his police bag. Just in case. Because bear or not, living in the shadow of Glacier National Park, Sam knew to expect trouble. "Did you find her?" The voice ricocheted up the path and Sam turned. Grimaced. The frantic and desperate Quinn Starr, aka Romeo. About seventeen, with dark brown hair chopped

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.

There is a pistol in her purse. Small and dainty, a little .22 caliber. She much prefers her rifle, but that's not exactly something you take with you into a bar. Even a sleazy one like this.

The father let his rifle down and stood its butt against the porch boards. The boy, though, kept alert. There was a good deal of killer about him, and it was why he still lived. The last four years had made a whole generation of young boys -- who ought to have been going to school and learning a trade and thrilling deep in their bones just to dance with a girl and peck her on the cheek -- into slit-eyed killers with no more tell of emotion than an old riverboat faro gambler.

Used a Barrett .50 rifle, big mother, like an old BAR on steroids. Shoots the .50 round from the Ma Deuce machine gun. Accurate as hell, and it makes for a definitive hit, y'know? Kinda hard to walk away with a half-inch hole in you.

Murder isn't like other squads. When it's working right, it would take your breath away: it's precision-cut and savage, lithe and momentous, it's a big cat leaping full-stretch or a beauty of a rifle so smooth it practically fires itself.

His private opinion about a lot of the baby thugs and delinquents he encountered on the job was that what they really yearned after, whether they knew it or not, was a rifle and a horse and a herd of cattle to drive through dangerous terrain.

A quotation in a speech, article or book is like a rifle in the hands of an infantryman. It speaks with authority.

I spent a career carrying typically either an M16 or an M4 Carbine. An M4 Carbine fires a .223 caliber round, which is 5.56 mm at about 3000 feet per second.

I'm learning to hunt with rifles, because if you think about it, hunting gets you the healthiest meat - organic, free-range food. It's a totally yuppie spin on what I thought was kind of a redneck occupation.

There ain't many troubles that a man caint fix With seven hundred dollars and a thirty ought six.

The truth is that any good modern rifle is good enough. The determining factor is the man behind the gun.

You're British, you're a priest, you're a medical doctor, you can handle a rifle, you know Morse Code, and most importantly of all, you're a fucking pain in the ass – so off you go!

Is dangerous, I know, to take ride from strangers. With assault rifle in backpack, not so dangerous.

A German walked up to her, his rifle

Sitka Charley started. There had been more than one shot, yet there was but one other rifle in the party. He gave a fleeting glance at the men who lay so quietly, smiled viciously at the wisdom of the trail, and hurried on to meet the Men of the Yukon.