Quotes About Gun

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 shook my head. "Calling my boyfriend." "You need a guy to come rescue you?" I waggled my gun. "I have that part covered, but given the situation, I'm going to let someone know where I am. I'm a feminist; I'm not an idiot.

Once a guy had pulled a gun on him—there was no way to understand that, but, on the other hand, you knew exactly what was going on. With the zombies, who knew?

If the guy has a gun, that's the power. He doesn't need to wave the gun; he just needs to point the gun in a very relaxed fashion.

What it was was an irresponsible act by an asshole with a gun. And it wasn't the fault of the gun; someone has to be behind the trigger.

I keep the gun in a hollowed out copy of the Koran. And there the big book was, tossed on the bed, open and gunless. Nothing else disturbed. I mean, they actually checked my Koran to see if there was a gun inside. I knew I was dealing with a sick son of a bitch.

To this day I don't know if he was struggling with the moral implications of gunning down half a dozen civilians, or if he was mentally counting to see if he had that many shells left in the gun.

Armando appeared in the door of the bathroom with his gun drawn, because in his world even a vomiting woman was apparently a problem that could be cured with a well-placed bullet.

I glanced at Badly Drawn Jesus, then pulled the gun from my pocket. On Judgment Day, I'd be able to proudly state that when I thought the hordes of Hell were coming for a local girl, I stood ready to shoot at them with a small-caliber pistol.

The shotgun and the Bible have never been separated by the Caucasian … It is not the Christianity that makes the Negro forgiving, it is two hundred and fifty years of forced coercion, cowardice and damaging instructions to play into the favor of the white man. Better get a gun for Christmas. Insure your lives Negroes, and then you are in line of equality.

You can't sit down in a bachelor's house without getting sick with cooties from the dirt and built-up grime, but you can eat off the barrel of his gun.

Power may be at the end of a gun, but sometimes it's also at the end of the shadow or the image of a gun.

You mean it got out of the specimen room?" "Yes, sir." "Holy crap!" "Agreed, sir. Permission to unlock the gun case?" Paul shook his head. "You don't shoot two years' worth of work just because somebody lost an arm.

Hunt game? With pearl-handled revolvers?" I asked, incredulous. "Isn't that a bit…I dunno…fancy? Do I just run out into the forest with my pearl-handled revolvers, or do I invite some deer to a cocktail party and then gun them down?

It is one of the great joys of home ownership to fire a pistol in one's own bedroom

The first thing I noticed was the gun in his hands, and it wasn't the sort of gun a beginner carries around with him. A big dull black German Mauser 7.63. One of those economical guns; the bullet goes clear through three people at once.

Lifting the pillow, he brought out kanarack's gun and hefted it in his hand. Tipping it toward him, he saw the hole where death came out. It looked easy. Even seductive. The Simplest way of all. No more fear of the police, or of the tall man. Best of all, his pain would be instantly gone. He Wondered why he hadn't thought of it before.

Nick sat beside Simon, who was at his computer. Marcus stood at attention beside the food. Hale had his feet on the table, reading the morning paper. And someone had given the Bagshaws a gun. 'Pull!' Hamish yelled, and Angus pulled a cord and sent a skeet flying across the deep blue water. A split second later, a loud crack was reverberating across the deck. Kat jumped. Hale sighed. The shot went far wide, and Marcus never moved a muscle.

He raised the gun higher, aiming it over my shoulder, and I knew there were no words—no logic—that could change what he was thinking. So I stopped thinking. I stopped waiting. I stopped planning and fearing and hating the man with the gun. I stopped being afraid for me, and I started caring only about my sister.

See a storm. See a bad spanking. See your boy is ugly. Decide your boy is the pope. Blow the pope away with an imaginary gun. Fellate your own fingers afterward.

I consider any gun that can chamber a round and send a projectile down its barrel at a high rate of speed into my body - causing me injury or death - to be an assault weapon.

It's part of the American experience: We deal with mosquitoes in August, airport delays around Thanksgiving, expensive health care and the potential of being shot, at any time, by a semiautomatic weapon as we try to go about the most boring, precious, asinine aspects of our daily lives.

Generations of gun owners have taught their sons and daughters that it takes as much patience and skill to be a good shot as it does to be a good steward of a powerful weapon.

You can't really escape the fact that more reasonable gun regulations and procedures need to be in place, a strengthening and tightening of the national background check system. I don't know why any civilian would ever be able to purchase an assault weapon or the parts that go with it.