Galesi Pistol Quotes

Van sealed the letter, found his Thunderbolt pistol in the place he had visualized, introduced one cartridge into the magazine, and translated it into its chamber. Then, standing before a closet mirror, he put the automatic to his head, at the point of the pterion, and pressed the comfortably concaved trigger. Nothing happened - or perhaps everything happened, and his destiny simply forked at that instant, as it probably does sometimes at night, especially in a strange bed, at stages of great happiness or great desolation, when we happen to die in our sleep, but continue our normal existence, with no perceptible break in the fakes serialization, on the following, neatly prepared morning, with a spurious past discreetly but firmly attached behind. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. ~ Herman Melville

Only think of two things - the report of the pistol and the tape. When you hear one, run like hell until you break the other. ~ Sam Mussabini

The one area that Winkleman avoided was dealing in contemporary art, which Memling described as "shooting poisonous snakes with a water pistol. ~ Hannah Rothschild

Dressed as a man, her horse unencumbered by anything but the bare necessities, she had the look of a survivor, a fighter, and he respected the hell our of her for it, especial when she slid the pistol our of one of the saddlebags and aimed it at him. ~ Alexandra Bracken

Do I still 'ave an eye?" I laughed. "Still there." He straightened with a sigh. "Too bad. I hear girls take a liking to a man with an eye patch." "Yes, when the eye was lost in some wildly romantic fashion like a sword fight or pistol duel. Not from smacking it on the eyepiece of a microscope. And you hardly need any more help with the ladies. ~ Tess Oliver

What the hell, I think. My pistol is on my hips and my balls are between my legs. ~ Daniel H. Wilson

The typewriter is neat and compact and sturdy and blue, just the right machine to pound out a missive of love. When you strike the keys it's a sound that hasn't been heard in the qorld world for thirty years (we are so far away from a time when typewriters won world wars). When you strike the keys they make a sound like a pistol shot, a sound so definite and sure you feel like a genius, or an orayor orator, or a beat poet. When you strike the keys you just want to keep on fucking writing. You have to wrestle with the thing, like I am doing now, steer it like an old manual car, keep the words together and right and on the page, but the blood and muscle of a typewriter, it is a beautiful thing. ~ Yvette Walker

The sling is to a rifle what the holster is to a pistol. If you have a sling, chances are you will keep the rifle with you. If there is no sling present, you will set the rifle down. When you are at the absolutely farthest point away from the rifle that you can possibly get, you'll need it. ~ Clint Smith

Toward the end of her life a burglar broke into her house and pistol-whipped her. She was an elderly woman by then, and it sent her into a downward spiral. When she was in the hospital dying, I called, and she asked me not to come and see her; she wanted me to remember her as she was. I felt I had to honor her request. As we talked, she told me she was wearing the four-leaf clover necklace I had given her. Barbara [Stanwyck] was cremated wearing it, and her ashes were scattered over Lone Pine. The fact that a piece of me remained with her at the end was and is some consolation for her loss. ~ Robert Wagner

Slade placed his pistol on the table next to his chair. "Sid down, Doll. This might take awhile," he said, as he took a deep breath. "I gots a proposition for ya'. Does 100 G's interest you? Sure might help keep them debt collectors you got at bay. Plus, might be able to finish up yer' master's degree without havin' to work your ass off to pay the bills. ~ Dianne Harman Cornered Coyote

I wished for death," he whispered, and the words took the smile from both our lips.
His gaze met mine again, this time it was earnest and beseeching. "I knew I could not leave you behind, so I planned to kill you first. I could not. I sat here with the pistol at your head for a long time. I thought of...how much you loved me, that you would make such a request, and...I could not. So I am chained here in this life, with you." He shook his head quickly. "Non, that did not sound as it should. I...will not betray you by leaving you alone, and I cannot take you with me, so I will remain, because I love you. ~ W.A. Hoffman

Come to think of it, just about every tool was shaped like either a weenie or a pistol, depending on your point of view. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

I suppose a suicide who holds a pistol to his skull feels much the same wonder at what will come next as I felt then. ~ H.G.Wells

I never pulled a loaded pistol on anybody, but it got around that I did. It got turned into lore. It's a myth. There's so much bad gun stuff. ~ Barry Hannah

Virginia peered uncertainly at the pistol. "Only powder in it, right?"
"Enough to make a very loud bang. But I daresay it would quite frighten a fellow if fired."
"I daresay." Virginia began to grin.
"What?" Celia asked.
"Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad idea for you to go for a moonlight walk with Pierce. He could use a little shaking up."
Celia laughed. Then they both started laughing.
By the time they left the retiring room, she was almost hoping that Lord Devonmont would indeed take her out somewhere and try to ravish her. Though she'd already fired her pistol in a controlled situation, she'd been wanting to test it under more typical conditions. ~ Sabrina Jeffries

A pun is not bound by the laws which limit nicer wit. It is a pistol let off at the ear; not a feather to tickle the intellect. ~ Charles Lamb

Idiotic reply, June. Why don't you punch him in the face while you're at it. I turn even more flustered when I remember that I have actually pistol-whipped him in the face before. Romantic ~ Marie Lu

If she were in a race for her life, that roar was the starter pistol. If God were the referee, He had just shouted Go. ~ Jim Butcher

Let her go or I'll shoot you."
"I've never met a woman who'd have the guts to shoot a man," he sneered. All the women he knew were too kind. Too gentle.
"I have the guts," the girl said. "Better yet, I want to shoot you."
That shook him. The words, and the tone, a kind of flat, plain aversion the like of which he'd never met in all of his privileged life. What had he ever done to deserve this girl's contempt? And why did he even care? "Which part of me will you shoot?" he mocked. "All that's showing is my head - and you can't be that good with a gun."
"I am," the girl said. "On the count of three, I'll shoot. One . . ."
"You'd take the chance of hurting Miss Victorine?" he asked.
"I won't hurt her. Two . . ."
"Amy, please, let him go!" Miss Victorine begged. "He was such a sweet boy."
"Three." Amy's eyes narrowed. Her finger began to squeeze the trigger.
And he released Miss Victorine, spinning her away from him and into a cabinet.
She landed with a thud and fell. The pistol roared.
He dived to the floor.
A shot whistled past the place where his head had been.
"Damn, that was close. Good thing you surrendered, my lord!"
"Don't swear, dear, it's not ladylike. ~ Christina Dodd

He stands in the kitchen doorway, a black figure surrounded by the yellow light background, the small details of his face unseen from the darkness of the living room. His left shoulder leans slightly against the threshold, a pistol suspended from the left hand, dangling in the yellow space between the hip and the dark. ~ Frank Turner Hollon

Some parents say it is toy guns that make boys warlike. But give a boy a rubber duck and he will seize its neck like the butt of a pistol and shout 'Bang!' ~ George Will

You'll be very close to him when you shoot him. So shove the pistol in his face and pull the trigger instantly."

Ingrid aka 'Alis K'
The Informer ~ Steen Langstrup

Cupid in these latter times has probably laid aside his bow and arrow, and uses fire-arms
a pistol
perhaps a revolver. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Nazis knew they were doing wrong, so they hid everything; the Bolsheviks were convinced they were doing right, so they kept everything. Like it or not, you're a Russian historian, a searcher for lost souls, and in Russia the truth is always written not in ink, like in other places, but in innocent blood. These archives are as sacred as Golgotha. In the dry rustle of the files you can hear the crying of children, the shunting of trains, the echo of footsteps down to the cellars, the single shot of the Nagant pistol delivering the seven grams. The very paper smells of blood" (401). ~ Simon Montefiore

He wiped the sweat off his forehead and bent to look out the window. It was amazing how heavy a 1.6-pound pistol could get
if you weren't relaxed. He knew better and chided himself, but forgot the pain the moment he saw the target building.


The neon dragon dancing on the roof glinted off the puddles in sparks of yellow and red. Outside the Dragon's Door the line
stretched back around the block. Steele set the pistol on the ledge and checked the Rolex Submariner on his wrist. It was
11:25. He pulled a magnifier from the inside pocket of his Manning and Manning jacket and pressed it to his eye.


"I'm on target," he said.

"Uploading the feed, stand by, ~ Sean Parnell

The only good bureaucrat is one with a pistol at his head. Put it in his hand and it's good-by to the Bill of Rights. ~ H.L. Mencken

am learning that this body is not a shotgun.
I am learning that this body is not a pistol.
I am learning that a man is not defined
by what he can destroy. ~ Rudy Francisco

I would feel horrible to think I had put my name on a pistol permit and allowed someone to carry around a gun and they committed another crime. ~ Mike Rutherford

Becks had a pistol in either hand, making her look like an illustration from some fucked-up pre-Rising horror/Western. Showdown at the Decay Corral or something. ~ Mira Grant

Nick took the pistol from her, turned, and tossed it onto the grass. Placing his hands on her arms, he pulled her to him, the pressure of his fingers biting into the softness of her flesh. "I don't know whether to shake you" - Nick emphasized his words with a joggle of her arms - "or kiss you." His tone sounded playful, but seriousness glimmered in his gaze. ~ Debra Holland

The fact is that the government, like a highwayman, says to a man: Your money, or your life ... The government does not, indeed, waylay a man in a lonely place, spring upon him from the road side and, holding a pistol to his head, proceed to rifle his pockets. But the robbery is none the less a robbery on that account; and it is far more dastardly and shameful. The highwayman takes solely upon himself the responsibility, danger, and crime of his own act. He does not pretend that he has any rightful claim to your money, or that he intends to use it for your own benefit. He does not pretend to be anything but a robber ... Furthermore, having taken your money, he leaves you as you wish him to do. He does not persist in following you on the road, against your will; assuming to be your rightful 'sovereign,' on account of the 'protection' he affords you. ~ Lysander Spooner

shoulder again and she was laughing. "You can rot in hell, Dillon." Dillon said, "For God's sake, no," and half-slipped to the floor. "Now don't be silly, old friend, make it easy on yourself. Just get up." Which Dillon did, at the same time he was drawing the Colt from the ankle holster, ramming the muzzle into the side of Rupert Dauncey's head, and pulling the trigger. There was an explosion of bone fragments and blood, the hollow point cartridge doing its work, and Dauncey dropped the Walther and fell back against the side of the door. Dillon pushed and sent him out into space. He grabbed at the Airstair door and closed it. He turned and found that Kate Rashid had put the Eagle on automatic and was reaching for her purse. She took out a small pistol, but he lunged, wrestled it from her, and tossed it to the back of the plane. She was hysterical with rage and ~ Jack Higgins

On our way down, we passed a two-story villa, hidden in a thicket of Chinese parasol trees, magnolia, and pines. It looked almost like a random pile of stones against the background of the rocks. It struck me as an unusually lovely place, and I snapped my last shot. Suddenly a man materialized out of nowhere and asked me in a low but commanding voice to hand over my camera. He wore civilian clothes, but I noticed he had a pistol. He opened the camera and exposed my entire roll of film. Then he disappeared, as if into the earth. Some tourists standing next to me whispered that this was one of Mao's summer villas. I felt another pang of revulsion toward Mao, not so much for his privilege, but for the hypocrisy of allowing himself luxury while telling his people that even comfort was bad for them. After we were safely out of earshot of the invisible guard, and I was bemoaning the loss of my thirty-six pictures, Jin-ming gave me a grin: "See where goggling at holy places gets you!"

We left Lushan by bus. Like every bus in China, it was packed, and we had to crane our necks desperately trying to breathe. Virtually no new buses had been built since the beginning of the Cultural Revolution, during which time the urban population had increased by several tens of millions. After a few minutes, we suddenly stopped. The front door was forced open, and an authoritative-looking man in plainclothes squeezed in.

"Get down! Get down!" he barked.

"Some Amer ~ Jung Chang

To the door of an inn in the provincial town of N. there drew up a smart britchka - a light spring-carriage of the sort affected by bachelors, retired lieutenant-colonels, staff-captains, land-owners possessed of about a hundred souls, and, in short, all persons who rank as gentlemen of the intermediate category. In the britchka was seated such a gentleman - a man who, though not handsome, was not ill-favoured, not over-fat, and not over-thin. Also, though not over-elderly, he was not over-young. His arrival produced no stir in the town, and was accompanied by no particular incident, beyond that a couple of peasants who happened to be standing at the door of a dramshop exchanged a few comments with reference to the equipage rather than to the individual who was seated in it. "Look at that carriage," one of them said to the other. "Think you it will be going as far as Moscow?" "I think it will," replied his companion. "But not as far as Kazan, eh?" "No, not as far as Kazan." With that the conversation ended. Presently, as the britchka was approaching the inn, it was met by a young man in a pair of very short, very tight breeches of white dimity, a quasi-fashionable frockcoat, and a dickey fastened with a pistol-shaped bronze tie-pin. The young man turned his head as he passed the britchka and eyed it attentively; after which he clapped his hand to his cap (which was in danger of being removed by the wind) and resumed his way. On the vehicle reaching the inn door, its occupant ~ Nikolai Gogol

Pug said: "I'm trying to think of the best way of knocking you off."
"The Chinese do it with rats," I said. "They let 'em eat the victim."
"Where am I going to get the rats?"
"Well," I said, "there're three in the car now."
I don't know which one hit me; Pug or the guy with the garlic breath. It was the barrel of a pistol and it cooled me for a couple of minutes. When I came to we had stopped by a small shack. I was alone with the guy on my left. ~ Jonathan Latimer

In Paris, when certain people see you ready to set your foot in the stirrup, some pull your coat-tails, others loosen the buckle of the strap that you may fall and crack your skull; one wrenches off your horse's shoes, another steals your whip, and the least treacherous of them all is the man whom you see coming to fire his pistol at you point blank. ~ Honore De Balzac

No you can't take a pistol and plug a girl you don't even know simply because she attracts you. ~ Vladimir Nabokov

Steele yanked on the pistol, but the front sight got snagged on the Frenchman's belt. Jean-Luc's right arm hit him in the
wrist, a painful bone-on-bone collision that wrenched the Five-seven out of his grip. Steele could make out Burrows's bodyguard
posted up ahead, faithfully guarding his boss's booth.


Jean-Luc shouted a warning while trying to dodge the server who seemed to appear out of nowhere. The bodyguard turned to his
left, reached into his jacket, and squared up to the threat. Steele's instincts told him that he was too far behind the eight-ball
to get the MP9 into action fast, so he improvised.


He launched a kick at Jean-Luc's ankle that would have made an NFL punter proud. His leg muscles pistoned his foot toward
its target like a hot rod on a quarter-mile track. The impact snapped the fleeing Frenchman's puny ankle, causing him to tumble
into the server.


Now. ~ Sean Parnell