Revolver Quotes

Rooster here has missed Ned a few times himself, horse and all,' said the captain. 'I reckon his is on his way now to missing him again.'

Rooster was holding a bottle with a little whiskey in it. He said, 'You keep on thinking that.' He drained off the whiskey in about three swallows and tapped the cork back in and tossed the bottle up in the air. He pulled his revolver and fired at it twice and missed. The bottle fell and rolled and Rooster shot at it two or three more times and broke it on the ground. He got out his sack of cartridges and reloaded his pistol. He said, 'The Chinaman is running them cheap shells in on me again.'

LaBoeuf said, 'I thought maybe the sun was in your eyes. That is to say, your eye.'

Rooster swung the cylinder back in his revolver and said, 'Eyes, is it? I'll show you eyes!' He jerked the sack of corn dodgers free from his saddle baggage. He got one of the dodgers out and flung it in the air and fired at it and missed. Then he flung another one up and he hit it. The corn dodger exploded. He was pleased with himself and he got a fresh bottle of whiskey from his baggage and treated himself to a drink.

LaBoeuf pulled one of his revolvers and got two dodgers out of the sack and tossed them both up. He fired very rapidly but he only hit one. Captain Finch tried it with two and missed both of them. Then he tried with one and made a successful shot. Rooster shot at two and hit one. They drank whiskey and used up ~ Charles Portis

Sympathy, conscience, disgust, despair, repentance, and atonement are for us repellent debauchery. To sit down and let oneself be hypnotized by one's own navel, to turn up one's eyes and humbly offer the back of one's neck to Gletkin's revolver - that is an easy solution. The greatest temptation for the like of us is: to renounce violence, to repent, to make peace with oneself. Most great revolutionaries fell before this temptation, from Spartacus to Danton and Dostoevsky; they are the classical form of betrayal of the cause. The temptations of God were always more dangerous for mankind than those of Satan. As long as chaos dominates the world, God is ananachronism; and every compromise with one's own conscience is perfidy. When the accursed inner voice speaks to you, hold your hands over your ears. ..." He felt for the bottle behind him and poured out an other glass. Rubashov noticed that the bottle was already half empty. You also could do with a little solace, he thought.

"The greatest criminals in history," Ivanov went on, "are not of the type Nero and Fouché, but of the type Gandhi and Tolstoy. Gandhi's inner voice has done more to prevent the liberation of India than the British guns. To sell oneself for thirty pieces of silver is an honest transaction; but to sell oneself to one's own conscience is to abandon mankind. History is a priori amoral; it has no conscience. To want to conduct history according to the maxims of the Sunday school means to leave every ~ Arthur Koestler

Curiously I was unmoved by my work. Unaffected by the act of murder, I had become entirely numb. I couldn't understand how such detachment was possible-- but I did some digging.

What I discovered would have horrified me... if I was capable of being horrified. My augmentation had included the binding of my DNA to some of history's most notorious assassins.

Are you not getting this? I'll say it in plain English--- I am the perfect killer in every sense of the word--- ---because--- ---I--- ---am--- ---every--- killer.

I'm the act of change possessed in a revolver. I am revolution packed into a suitcase bomb.

I am ever Mark David Chapman and every Charlotte Corday. I am Luigi Lucheni slow-dancing with Balthasar to the tune of semi-automatics, while Gavrilo Princip masturbates in the corner with bath-tub napalm. I am all of them and so much more... because I am going to live forever." Number Five ~ Gerard Way

Poison has a certain appeal ... It has not the crudeness of the revolver bullet or the blunt weapon. ~ Agatha Christie

There's not anything I can fix, change, make better its out to the world. I'd like to say that I like my records but it's for reasons other than enjoyment, it's more like a notch on my revolver, one more down. I am proud of my work, yes but its accomplishment to me and another year of schooling,in making records it can always be better! ~ Shelby Lynne

Silence can be a form of protest. It can be a means of survival. But it can also be a school of poetry - one with its own meter, tropes, and conventions. One that needn't be written with pencils or pens; but that can be written in the soul with a revolver to the chest." With ~ Amor Towles

I have no respect for you pigs, but I was willing to let that slide for business. Then you come to me, late, ungrateful, and disrespectful. It hurts me." I sighed, loading six bullets into my revolver slowly. I enjoyed watching them panic while I did this. "And when I hurt, somebody else gotta feel my hurt. It's what makes my world go 'round."

Smiling, I shot at the first man in the groin. He screamed so loud I'm sure he popped a vein in his neck.

"Do you feel the world spinning?" I grinned. ~ J.J. McAvoy

The reply to this was that Three took out a small revolver, and this surprised me; for everyone knows that anger is most intense towards those you know: it is lovers and neighbors who kill each other. There's no sense, after all, in behaving that way toward a perfect stranger; where's the satisfaction? No love, no need; no need, no frustration; no frustration, no hate, right? It must have been fear. ~ Joanna Russ

A woman's judgment: intuitive, clever, expressed with felicitous charm - infallible. A judgment that has nothing to do with justice. The critic and the judge seems to think that in those distant lands all joy is a yell and a war dance, all pathos is a howl and a ghastly grin of filed teeth, and that the solution of all problems is found in the barrel of a revolver or on the point of an assegai. And yet it is not so. But the erring magistrate may plead in excuse the misleading nature of the evidence. ~ Joseph Conrad

Raining. Oh, brother, a scratch on the fender. Damn rabbi on his unicycle.
Wait a minute, where are my car keys? Could have sworn I left them in this pocket. No, just some loose change and ticket stubs from the all-black version of Elaine Stritch' s one-woman show.
Did I check my desk? Better go back inside. What's in the top drawer here? Hmm. Envelopes, my paper clips, a loaded revolver in case the tenant in 2A begins yodelling again. ~ Woody Allen

Present­ly, when the strain re­laxed, Blore said: 'There are habits and habits! Mr. Lom­bard takes a re­volver to out-​of-​the-way places, right enough, and a primus and a sleep­ing-​bag and a sup­ply of bug pow­der, no doubt! But habit wouldn't make him bring the whole out­fit down here? It's on­ly in books peo­ple car­ry re­volvers around as a matter of course.' Dr. Arm­strong shook his head per­plexed­ly. ~ Agatha Christie

I had fired 9-millimeters before and didn't like them. they weren't as accurate as my .38 special. they weren't as safe, and they could jam. i had never been one to substitute quantity for quality, and there was no substitution for being informed and practiced ~ Patricia Cornwell

A shapeless figure bent over him, he smelt the fresh leather of the revolver belt; but what insignia did the figure wear on the sleeves and shoulder straps of its uniform - and in whose name did it raise the dark pistol barrel?

A second, smashing blow hit him on the ear. Then all became quiet. There was the sea again with its sounds. A wave slowly lifted him up. It came from afar and travelled sedately on, a shrug of eternity. ~ Arthur Koestler

She shoved her hands in the deep silk-lined pockets ... where she felt the cold steel of a revolver. ~ Sherry Morris

He's dreaming, Cloquet thought, as he stood over him, revolver in hand. He's dreaming, and I exist in reality. Cloquet hated reality but realized it was still the only place to get a good steak. ~ Woody Allen

When I was a kid, I used to wonder (I bet everyone did) whether there was somebody somewhere on the earth, or even in the universe, or ever had been in all of time, who had had exactly the same experience that I was having at that moment, and I hoped so badly that there was. But I realized then that could never occur, because every moment is all the things that are going to happen, and every moment is just the way all those things look at one point on their way along a line. And I thought how maybe once there was, say, a princess who lost her mother's ring in a forest, and how in some other galaxy a strange creature might fall, screaming, on the shore of a red lake, and how right at that second there could be a man standing at a window overlooking a busy street, aiming a loaded revolver, but how it was just me, there, after Chris, staring at that turtle in the fourth-grade room and wondering if it would die before I stopped being able to see it. ~ Deborah Eisenberg

Perhaps we underestimated your mother," he said. "I can't imagine she would have made it so easy for anyone to find."

"A World War isn't enough of a hurdle?" Etta asked, rubbing her hand over her face. "Okay, okay…we just have to think this through.…"

"I do have an idea, but I'm afraid it's terrible," Nicholas said, surveying the lock on the gate and giving it another hard tug.

"A bad idea is better than no idea," Etta said.

"I'm glad you feel that way, because this is an exquisitely bad one." He turned toward her. "We can go around the back of the museum and I can lift you over the gate. You can then slip into the museum and hold any guards or curators inside hostage, until they give up the information about the location of the statues."

"Hold them hostage?" she repeated.

"Don't you know? That's how real pirates like Blackbeard made most of their money. He ransomed whole cities," he said. "I'll even teach you how to use the revolver."

Despite herself, Etta smiled. "I really appreciate the faith you have in my criminal abilities. But even if I find someone in there, I doubt they'll be good for anything other than calling the police to pick me up. It seems like the kind of information people would do anything to protect ~ Alexandra Bracken

Why did I accept death? But I will ask,
what use was life to me after that revolver had been raised against me by the being I adored? ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Another bad cure is the sentence awkwardly stretched out by a "that" or "which" clause. For example, "Leaping from the couch he seized the revolver from the bookshelf that stood behind the armchair," or, "She turned, shrieking, throwing up her arms in terror at the sight of the gorilla that had arrive that morning from Africa, which had formerly been its home." What happens in such sentences, obviously, is that they tend to trail off, lose energy. ~ John Gardner

All drunks, particularly those who grew up in alcoholic homes, have that same sense of angst and trepidation, one that has no explainable origins. The fear is not necessarily self-centered, either. It's like watching someone point a revolver at his temple while he cocks and dry-fires the mechanism, over and over again, until the cylinder rotates a loaded chamber into firing position. ~ James Lee Burke

There is something about yourself that you don't know ... ~ Jason Statham

I played in Velvet Revolver, which is a raw, bombastic blues band with a punk rock edge to it. It's like everything is based around the blues, no matter what the groove is. ~ Scott Weiland

Whether he remained here, or found a means to leave, he ought certainly to possess himself of the best possible weapons. By the term Mr. Lecky understood some sort of firearm. The fact that he was totally unacquainted with the use of guns assisted him in the illusion that, given a revolver, he would instantly become formidable. Trusting machines as he did, he regarded a revolver as a small killing machine. He believed that its operation required little more than pointing and pulling a trigger. The revolver would obediently deliver, unerring and fast as light, death to a great distance. ~ James Gould Cozzens

My method of getting a play across the footlights is like a revolver shooting: every line has a bullet in it and comes with an explosion. ~ George Bernard Shaw

It was in a swampy village on the lagoon river behind the Turner Peninsula that Pollock's first encounter with the Porroh man occurred. The women of that country are famous for their good looks - they are Gallinas with a dash of European blood that dates from the days of Vasco da Gama and the English slave-traders, and the Porroh man, too, was possibly inspired by a faint Caucasian taint in his composition. (It's a curious thing to think that some of us may have distant cousins eating men on Sherboro Island or raiding with the Sofas.) At any rate, the Porroh man stabbed the woman to the heart as though he had been a mere low-class Italian, and very narrowly missed Pollock. But Pollock, using his revolver to parry the lightning stab which was aimed at his deltoid muscle, sent the iron dagger flying, and, firing, hit the man in the hand.

He fired again and missed, knocking a sudden window out of the wall of the hut. The Porroh man stooped in the doorway, glancing under his arm at Pollock. Pollock caught a glimpse of his inverted face in the sunlight, and then the Englishman was alone, sick and trembling with the excitement of the affair, in the twilight of the place. It had all happened in less time than it takes to read about it.

("Pollock And The Porroh Man") ~ H.G. Wells

It can't drag on this way much longer," she said to herself. "One evening he'll whistle under my window, I'll go down by a ladder or a knotted rope and he will carry me away on a motorcycle, off to a den where his subjects will be assembled. He'll say: 'Here is your new Queen.' And ... and ... it will be terrible!"
viii. Their Queen is away and anarchy reigns! The Journal said so! How grand to be Queen, with a red ribbon and a revolver ... ~ Colette

Let every dirty, lousy tramp arm himself with a revolver or a knife, and lay in wait on the steps of the palaces of the rich and stab or shoot the owners as they come out. Let us kill them without mercy, and let it be a war of extermination. ~ Lucy Parsons

A doll with skin like that isn't going to mess it up with a revolver shot. [ ... ] Revolvers are meant for crocodile-skins like ours. ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

Forced to define 'irrational subconscious,' I would say that it is a small padded room inside all of us, where the only furnishing is a small card table, and the only thing on the card table is a revolver loaded with flexible bullets. ~ Stephen King

Before the war, the domain of culture seemed to offer a haven from the increasingly hateful world of politics. Now, when I hear the word culture, I pull out the quote commonly attributed to Hermann Goring: When I hear the word culture, I reach for my revolver. ~ Aleksandar Hemon

I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

Quick as lightning Wild Bill pulled his revolver. The stranger fell dead, shot through the brain. ~ Buffalo Bill

Is it a spiral of water in the tragic gleam of a revolver, an egg, a glistening arc or the floodgate of reason, a keen ear attuned to a mineral hiss, or a turbine of algebraic formulas? (On Man Ray's first photograms, 1921.) ~ Tristan Tzara

The revolver was black and nearly new. I was afraid to even touch it, for in it lay all the whole difference between what I was and what I was going to be. ~ Elie Wiesel

I don't care about the rules or anyone else. People are awful - they're idiots - and if they try to hurt you, I won't need the revolver. I care about you and all I ask is that you try not to make me feel like an idiot for it. You're supposed to . . . you're my partner. ~ Alexandra Bracken

Statistics are somewhat like old medical journals, or like revolvers in newly opened mining districts. Most men rarely use them, and find it troublesome to preserve them so as to have them easy of access; but when they do want them, they want them badly. ~ John Shaw Billings

I tried not to look at Micky much, so he'd know straightaway he wasn't the point at issue. But a quick glance told me he was also in his forties, and as thin as a very thin stick. He wore leather backless gloves and a revolver, and probably some clothes as well, but I wasn't really paying attention to them. ~ Hugh Laurie

We still wading in the water ...
Cocaine, blunts, marinating in the water.
Lean and took a puff, and then she gave it to my father,
Used to take the bullets out so I could play with the revolver.
Satan serenading ever since I was a toddler,
Tell 'em talk is cheap ... niggas living for the dollar. ~ Vince Staples

Nathaniel, who has failed as a writer, decides to commit suicide. He loads his revolver, places it at his side on his desk, and starts to write his letter of farewell. The letter lengthens, brightens, breathes, lives. It is the Masterpiece, the yearned-for Masterpiece! In order to publish it, Nathaniel does not commit suicide. ~ Enrique Anderson Imbert

After breakfast I spent an hour cleaning my revolver and trying my skill at a target. Jane shook her head, probably thinking that bullets were vain against demonic powers. But Perdita was hugely delighted with the shining little instrument and wanted it for a plaything; women of all ages will play with death! ("Absolute Evil") ~ Julian Hawthorne

An ungentlemanly war it will be,' he grumbled. 'Will I lead my men with a sword? Ah, but no! I will lead my men with a dirty revolver in my hand. Parbleu! Such is modern warfare! A machine could do the whole cursed thing better -- we shall all be nothing but machines in this war. ~ Radclyffe Hall

You cannot always depend on prayers to be answered the way you want them answered but you can always depend on God. God, the loving Father often denies us those things which in the end would prove harmful to us. Every boy wants a revolver at age four, and no father yet has ever granted that request. Why should we think God is less wise? Someday we will thank God not only for what He gave us, but also for that which He refused. ~ Fulton J. Sheen

Tod Clifton's one with the ages. But what's that to do with you in this heat under this veiled sun? Now he's part of history, and he has received his true freedom. Didn't they scribble his name on a standardized pad? His Race: colored! Religion: unknown, probably born Baptist. Place of birth: U.S. Some southern town. Next of kin: unknown. Address: unknown. Occupation: unemployed. Cause of death (be specific): resisting reality in the form of a .38 caliber revolver in the hands of the arresting officer, on Forty-second between the library and the subway in the heat of the afternoon, of gunshot wounds received from three bullets, fired at three paces, one bullet entering the right ventricle of the heart, and lodging there, the other severing the spinal ganglia traveling downward to lodge in the pelvis, the other breaking through the back and traveling God knows where. ~ Ralph Ellison

When I hear the word 'independent' I reach for my revolver. At this point, what the hell does that mean? The English Patient is an independent film. Hootie and the Blowfish are alternative music. I'm the Queen of Denmark. I don't know what it means anymore. ~ Jim Jarmusch

In the end, the cats were rounded up and put into a room. My father went into the room with his First World War revolver, more reliable, he said, than a shotgun. The gun sounded again, again, again, again. The cats that were still uncaught had sensed their fate and were raging and screaming all over the bush, with people after them. My father came out of the room at one point, very white, with tight angry lips and wet eyes. He was sick.
Then he swore a good deal, then he went back into the room and the shooting continued. At last he came out. The servants went in and carried off the corpses to the disused well. Some of the cats had escaped – three never came back at all to the murderous household, so they must have gone wild and taken their chances.
When my mother returned from her trip, and the neighbour who had brought her had gone, she walked quiet and uncommenting through the house where there was now one cat, her old favourite, asleep on her bed. My mother had not asked for this cat to be spared, because it was old, and not very well. But she was looking for it; and she sat a long time stroking and talking to it. Then she came out to the verandah.
There sat my father and there I sat, murderers, and feeling it. She sat down. He was rolling a cigarette. His hands were still shaking. He looked up at her and said: 'That must never happen again.' And I suppose it never did. ~ Doris Lessing

The Captain's habit of letting off a revolver at real or imaginary cats was a sore trial to his neighbours. ~ Agatha Christie

When he could stand it no longer, he fired a revolver up through the roof of his mouth, but he made a mess of it. ~ Ellen N. La Motte

Veronica's hands wouldn't stop shaking. She held the revolver straight out from her body and breathed slowly, deeply, the hot-metal smell stinging her nostrils. She tried to relax her shoulders. ~ Rob Thomas

There's a gun in your desk. It's fully loaded."
"How do you know?" His frown deepens.
"I checked it yesterday."
"I don't want you messing with guns. I hope you put the safety back on."
I blink at him, momentarily stupefied.
"Christian, there's no safety on that revolver. Don't you know anything about guns?"
His eyes widen. "Um ... no. ~ E.L. James

Glanton was first to reach the dying man and he knelt with that alien and barbarous head cradled between his thighs like some reeking outland nurse and dared off the savages with his revolver. They circled on the plain and shook their bows and lofted a few arrows at him and then turned and rode on. Blood bubbled from the man's chest and he turned his lost eyes upward, already glazed, the capillaries breaking up. In those dark pools there sat each a small and perfect sun. ~ Cormac McCarthy

And then, with a shock like high-voltage coursing through me, the phone beside me started pealing thinly.

I just stood there and stared at it, blood draining from my face. A call to a tollbooth? It must, it must be a wrong number, somebody wanted the Information Booth or-! It must have been audible outside, with all I had the slide partly closed. One of the redcaps passing by turned, looked over, then started coming across toward where I was. To get rid of him I picked up the receiver, put it to my ear.

'You'd better come out now, time's up,' a flat, deadly voice said. 'They're calling your train, but you're not getting on that one - or any other.'

'Wh-where are talking from?'

'The next booth to yours,' the voice jeered. 'You forgot the glass inserts only reach halfway down.'

The connection broke and a man's looming figure was shadowing the glass in front of my eyes, before I could even get the receiver back on the hook. I dropped it full-length, tensed my right arm to pound it through his face as soon as I shoved the glass aside. He had a revolver-bore for a top vest-button, trained on me. Two more had shown up behind him, from which direction I hadn't noticed. It was very dark in the booth now, their collective silhouettes shut out all the daylight. The station and all its friendly bustle was blotted out, had receded into the far background, a thousand miles away for all the help it could give me. I slapped the glass ~ Cornell Woolrich

At the same moment the convict screamed out a curse at us and hurled a rock which splintered up against the boulder which had sheltered us. I caught one glimpse of his short, squat, strongly built figure as he sprang to his feet and turned to run.
A lucky long shot of my revolver might have crippled him, but I had brought it only to defend myself if attacked and not to shoot an unarmed man who was running away. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

I'm a lifelong movie addict, and one of my favorite projects is making replica props and costumes. Nearly every one of these - from R2D2 to Hellboy's revolver - ends with the paint job. And it's not just cosmetic. The paint literally tells a story: what this thing is made of, where it's been, what it's been used for, and for how long. ~ Adam Savage

Something that sounded like an insect droned past Ralph's ear. He had an idea it was a .45-caliber bug. Better hurry up, sweetheart, Carolyn advised. When bullets hit you on this level they kill you, remember? ~ Stephen King

Do you still have the revolver you were going to shoot me with?" asked the old man on the telephone.
"Yes, I have it here."
"How much ammunition?"
"No idea. How do I find out?"
He explained. In the moonlight, she felt the bulges of the cartridges in the cylinder. "Six," she said.
"And you don't know how to use it?"
"No."
"But you are American."
"Ha-ha."
"If you do as I say, and go about it cleverly, I hope you won't need it. Unless Cesare Carnevare crosses your path, in which case please be kind enough to shoot him."
"How about the concordat?"
He laughed. "Shoot him when no one's looking. ~ Kai Meyer

When you are discovered by a householder - with revolver - in his parlor at half-past three in the morning, it is surely an injudicious move to lay stress on your proficiency as a burglar. The householder may be supposed to take that for granted. ~ P.G. Wodehouse

My sister and I had jointly heard the narration of 'Revolver Rani' in Tigmanshu Dhulia's office. After hearing the narration, my sister was very scared and adamant that I should not do this film, as my character was twisted, neurotic, violent and abusive. ~ Kangana Ranaut

You're part of the extended family, Sheriff," Barb told him, tweaking his ear. She was cooling down. "And besides, we may need you on Saturday. If the little bastards get rowdy, you can legally off'm with your Uzi." She pointed to the small revolver Pierce sometimes carried in a discreet (I daresay tasteful) shoulder holster of burnished tan leather. ~ Michael Craft

His incredible untidiness, his addiction to music at strange hours, his occasional revolver practice within doors, his weird and often malodorous scientific experiments, and the atmosphere of violence and danger which hung around him made him the very worst tenant in London. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

You mean something like 'truth or dare'? I haven't played that in a long time." She didn't think he would ever get himself entangled in a game like that, but it was addictive, a compromising icebreaker featuring all the strategy of Poker, minus the cards, mixed with a dash of danger from Russian Roulette, without the revolver. ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

It may be true that my desk here is really 'nothing but' a transient eddy of electrons in the flux of universal process. Nevertheless, I find that it continues to support my feet, my revolver, and my cigars all day long. What happens when my back is turned I don't know. Or much care. That's no concern of mine. ~ Edward Abbey

Reality is far more vicious than Russian roulette. First, it delivers the fatal bullet rather infrequently, like a revolver that would have hundreds, even thousands of chambers instead of six. After a few dozen tries, one forgets about the existence of a bullet, under a numbing false sense of security. Second, unlike a well-defined precise game like Russian roulette, where the risks are visible to anyone capable of multiplying and dividing by six, one does not observe the barrel of reality. One is capable of unwittingly playing Russian roulette - and calling it by some alternative "low risk" game. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb

If you change the rules on what controls you ... you will change the rules on what you can control. ~ Guy Ritchie

Now this girl was about twenty-one years old. A sweet little coed. Spends a night with a married man. Goes home the next day and tells her mama and daddy. Don't ask me why. Maybe just to rub their faces in it. They decide she needs a lesson. Whole family drives out into the desert, right out to that spot we just passed. All three of them plus the girl's pet dog. Papa tells the girl to dig a shallow grave. Mama gets down on her hands and knees and holds the dog by the collar. When the girl is all through digging, papa gives her a .22 caliber revolver and tells her to shoot the dog. A real touching family scene. Make a good calendar for some religious group to give away. The girl puts the weapon to her temple and kills herself. Now isn't that a heartwarming story? Restores my faith in just about everything. ~ Don DeLillo

Everyone has the revolver of resignation in his pocket. ~ Ian Fleming

This is like playing Russian roulette with a Luger rather than a revolver. One bullet, one chamber - and we're pulling the trigger. ~ Mark Lynas

If I held a revolver to your head, James, and pulled the trigger, would it really matter if I did not know that there were not bullets in the chambers? ~ Cassandra Clare

Nothing whatever but the constitutional law, the political structure, of these United States protects any American from arbitrary seizure of his property and his person, from the Gestapo and the Storm Troops, from the concentration camp, the torture chamber, the revolver at the back of his neck in a cellar. ~ Rose Wilder Lane

A Bridgeport, Connecticut, man presented his girlfriend with an engagement ring and handed her one end of a ribbon; the other end disappeared into his pocket. "A surprise," he said, and urged her to pull it. She obliged. The ribbon was attached to the trigger of a revolver. The man died instantly. ~ Erik Larson

There is no such thing as self-awareness. Imagine thought retreating into itself to think about itself. It would be easier to imagine a revolver bullet extracting itself from its victim's wound and re-entering the barrel. Yes, it would be easier to imagine the universe's explosion suddenly halting its outflow of energy, so that the galaxies congeal once more, and the millions of light-years of their flight through space are immediately annulled. ~ Jean-Marie G. Le Clezio

What I knew, beyond a doubt, was that if I continued to deny who I was, I'd end up with my service revolver in my mouth.

"Better cock than steel," I said wryly, checking my reflection one last time before I exited the car. ~ Dani Alexander

I looked at it [revolver] as if it reminded me of a crime I had committed with an irrepressible smile such as rises sometimes to people's lips in the face of great catastrophes which are beyond their grasp, the smile that comes at times on certain women's faces while they are saying they regret the harm they have done. It is the smile of nature quietly and proudly asserting its natural right to kill. ~ Anais Nin

The legitimacy of Oswald's alleged alias, Alex Hidell, is tainted beyond
repair by the nature of the Selective Service card supposedly found on him
after his arrest in the Texas Theater. This card bore a photograph of Lee Harvey
Oswald but the name of Alex Hidell. The problem is real Selective Service
cards never had photos on them, so the card would have been worthless as
a means of identification. It was perfect, however, for instantly associating
Oswald with the Hidell alias. Oswald apparently only used this alias twice -
once to order the unreliable rifle later dubiously tied to the assassination,
and once to order the revolver allegedly used to kill Officer Tippit. The
authorities claimed Oswald utilized a P.O. Box, under Hidell's name, for
just this purpose. Critics quickly pointed out how senseless this would have
been, as anyone could have purchased better, cheaper weapons on virtually
every street corner in 1963 Dallas, with no convenient trail left behind. ~ Donald Jeffries

I have carried a revolver; lots of us do, but they are the most innocent things in the world. ~ Mark Twain

You're like a Boy Scout, huh?"

It's my attempt at flirting - probably only slightly less effective than Dirty Dancing's "I carried a watermelon."

He does the mouth-quirk thing again.

"Not even close."

There's a bad-boy edge in the way he says it - a heavy hint of the forbidden - that gets my heart pounding and my jaw eager to drop.

To cover my reaction, I nod vigorously.

"Right, me neither . . . Never been a - "

Too vigorously.

So vigorously that my elbow slips in the flour on the counter and I almost knock myself unconscious. But Logan's not only big and brawny - he's quick. Fast enough to catch me by the arm and waist to steady me before I bash the side of my head against the butcher block.

"Are you all right, Ellie?"

He leans down, looking at me intently - a look I'll see in my dreams tonight . . . assuming I can sleep. And, wow, Logan has great eyelashes. Thick and lengthy and midnight black. I bet they're not the only part of him that's thick and lengthy.

My gaze darts down to his promised land, where his pants are just tight enough to confirm my suspicions - this bodyguard may have a service revolver in his pocket, but he's got a magnum in his pants.

Yum.

"Yeah, I'm good." I sigh. "Just . . . you know . . . tired. But I'm cool . . . totally cool."

And I shake it off, like I actually am ~ Emma Chase

Madness rides the star-wind . . . claws and teeth sharpened on centuries of corpses . . . dripping death astride a Bacchanale of bats from night-black ruins of buried temples of Belial. . . . Now, as the baying of that dead, fleshless monstrosity grows louder and louder, and the stealthy whirring and flapping of those accursed web-wings circles closer and closer, I shall seek with my revolver the oblivion which is my only refuge from the unnamed and unnamable. ~ H.P. Lovecraft

A cocked .38 doesn't feel the same as an unprimed revolver. The frame tightens differently, the trigger is on a hair and this tension is communicated to you and the people around you. ~ Adrian McKinty

Much to be preferred to boxing are fencing and revolver-practice, judo and study of poisons. ~ Robert Aickman

He grasped the knob. It was engraved with a wild rose
wound around a revolver, one of those great old guns from his
father and now lost forever.
Yet it will be yours again, whispered the voice of the Tower
and the voice of the roses - these voices were now one.
What do you mean ?
To this there was no answer, but the knob turned beneath
his hand, and perhaps that was an answer. Roland opened the
door at the top of the Dark Tower.
He saw and understood at once, the knowledge falling
upon him in a hammerblow, hot as the sun of the desert that
was the apotheosis of all deserts. How many times had he
climbed these stairs only to find himself peeled back, curved
back, turned back? Not to the beginning (when things might
have been changed and time's curse lifted), but to that moment
in the Mohaine Desert when he had finally understood that his
thoughtless, questionless quest would ultimately succeed? How
many times had he traveled a loop like the one in the clip
that had once pinched off his navel, his own tet-ka can Gan?
How many times would he travel it?
"Oh, no!" he screamed. "Please, not again! Have pity! Have
mercy!"
The hands pulled him forward regardless. The hands of the
Tower knew no mercy.
They were the hands of Gan, the hands of ka, and they
knew no mercy. ~ Stephen King

One of these days I'm gonna beat him in the face with the butt of my service revolver until an eyeball pops out. These are the thoughts that keep me happy. ~ John Layman

Charley looked over at him. "About how much you and Jesse have in common."

Jesse said, "Why don't you tell it, Bob; if you remember."

Bob inched forward in his chair. "Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, it is interesting, the many ways you and I overlap and whatnot. You begin with my daddy, J.T. Ford. J stands for James! And T is Thomas, meaning 'twin.' Your daddy was a pastor of the New Hope Baptist Church; my daddy was part-time pastor of a church at Excelsior Springs. You're the youngest of the three James boys; I'm the youngest of the five Ford boys. You had twins as sons, I had twins as sisters. Frank is four and a half years older than you, which incidentally is the difference between Charley and me, the two outlaws in the Ford clan. Between us is another brother, Wilbur here (with six letters in his name); between Frank and you was a brother, Robert, also with six letters. Robert died in infancy, as most everyone knows, and he was named after your father, Robert, who was remembered by your brother's first-born, another Robert. Robert, of course, is my Christian name. My uncle, Robert Austin Ford, has a son named Jesse James Ford. You have blue eyes; I have blue eyes. You're five feet eight inches tall; I'm five feet eight inches tall. We're both hot-tempered and impulsive and devil-may-care. Smith and Wesson is our preferred make of revolver. There's the same number of letters and syllables in our names; I mean, Jesse James and Robert Ford. Oh m ~ Ron Hansen

As a matter of fact I don't care two pins about accuracy. Who is accurate? Nobody nowadays. If a reporter writes that a beautiful girl of twenty-two dies by turning on the gas after looking out over the sea and kissing her favourite Labrador, Bob, goodbye, does anybody make a fuss because the girl was twenty-six, the room faced inland, and the dog was a Sealyham terrier called Bonnie? If a journalist can do that sort of thing I don't see that it matters if I mix up police ranks and say a revolver when I mean an automatic and a dictograph when I mean a phonograph, and use a poison that just allows you to gasp one dying sentence and no more. What really matters is plenty of bodies! If the thing's getting a little dull, some more blood cheers it up. Somebody is going to tell something – and then they're killed first! That always goes down well. It comes in all my books – camouflaged different ways of course. And people like untraceable poisons, and idiotic police inspectors and girls tied up in cellars with sewer gas or water pouring in (such a troublesome way of killing anyone really) and a hero who can dispose of anything from three to seven villains singlehanded. ~ Agatha Christie

I know nothing about pistols and revolvers, which is why I usually kill off my characters with a blunt instrument or better with poisons. Besides, poisons are neat and clean and really exciting ... I do not think I could look a really ghastly mangled body in the face. It is the means that I am interested in. I do not usually describe the end, which is often a corpse. ~ Agatha Christie

It's very important to not repeat yourself. After 'Delhi Belly,' I was offered 40 'Delhi Belly's and you can't do that! So 'Revolver Rani' is dark and gritty with action, 'Sooper Se Oopar' is a big commercial love story, 'Santa Banta' is a 'theth' Punjabi comedy, 'Golu Aur Pappu' is a kids' film and 'Amit Sahni Ki List' is an urban romcom. ~ Vir Das

The only time I think I've ever gotten sick of playing Guns and Roses songs really was during - after having played them in Guns and Roses, and then in Snakepit, and then playing 'It's So Easy' and 'Brownstone' in Velvet Revolver. ~ Slash

My whole life experience feeds into my writing. I think that must be true for every writer. Clearly the Army and combat were major influences; just the same, you need to understand that many of the writers we have now couldn't load a revolver. ~ Gene Wolfe

May I ask what happened to your last revolver?' 'It turned into a sword.' 'Of course it did.' 'And then the ghouls probably stole it.' Cabal smiled with an expression so close to fondness that it made Horst stare. 'The naughty rapscallions. ~ Jonathan L. Howard

I wouldn't like to meet you when you've got a revolver, said Margarita with a coquettish look at Azazello. She had a passion for people who did things well. ~ Mikhail Bulgakov

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

Then shouts from the direction of the doorway. I started to black out, kneeing him in the crotch to no effect and clawing in panic at his hands, the flesh sloughing off under my nails.

Then suddenly he straightened, and looked toward the door.

Schubert came charging through, his service revolver raised. Two more officers came right behind.

He whirled away from them as if to hide his ruined face. But he didn't hide it from me! He looked at me with what passed for a fixed and hideous grin, although it might have been the death rictus of his facial muscles. His voice was like a tinny rasp, hollow and unreal.

"When the world starts to chew itself up alive, and spits out its own guts... be it on your conscience, Mr. Kolchak!"

He staggered away. Schubert was yelling for me to stop him. I made a grab for his coat but it came off in my hand. The acid.

He bolted for what had been an outside window, now boarded up, and smashed through it.

We could hear his wail all the way down. And a distant, echoing clatter of falling wood... and glass... and bones. ~ Jeff Rice

She went to get the revolver, which had long since been loaded by a most considerate Providence, and when she held it in her hand, weighty as a phallus in action, she realised she was big with murder, pregnant with a corpse. ~ Jean Genet

It is well known that women carry poison in their pockets. Did you expect a gun? A woman with a gun would be just another policeman. We fall in love with the convicts, remember that. Policemen marry girls from the neighborhood, high school looms over their unions, the first uniform is her prom dress and his black bow tie and white shirt. But the girls are thinking of poison, thinking of poison as the lights go out on the dresser where the revolver has been placed with care for the night. The black shoes, the fine, thick serge of the coat, shoulders and thighs of stallions. And the policemen are usually shot down by someone out of shape, thin, thin, nothing but living bones. Remember that. ~ Elizabeth Hardwick

Octave staggered to his feet, his stick swinging back to point toward Nicholas. He felt a wave of heat and saw spellfire crackle along the length of polished wood, preparing itself for another explosive burst. Crack was moving toward Octave, but Madeline shouted, "Get back!"
Nicholas ducked, as a shot exploded behind him. Octave fell backward on the carpet and the blue lightning flared once and vanished with a sharp crackle.
Nicholas looked at Madeline. She stepped forward, holding a small double-action revolver carefully and frowning down at the corpse. He said, "I wondered what you were waiting for."
"You were in my line of fire, dear," she said, preoccupied. "But look. ~ Martha Wells

I am a man of cultivation; I have studied various remarkable books, but I cannot fathom the direction of my preferences; do I want to live or do I want to shoot myself, so to speak? But in order to be ready for all contingencies, I always carry a revolver in my pocket. ~ Anton Chekhov

Do not neglect to bring your revolver, Russell. It may be needed, and it does us no good in your drawer with that disgusting cheese."
"My lovely Stilton; it's almost ripe, too. I do hope Mr. Thomas enjoys it."
"Any riper and it will eat through the woodwork and drop into the room below."
"You envy me my educated tastes."
"That I will not honour with a response. Get out the door, Russell. ~ Laurie R. King

ALPHA: sleek black-and-brown female with a white fang-shaped mark below her ear (also known as Blade) BETA: huge black-and-tan male (also known as Mace) DAGGER - brown-and-tan male with a stubby face PISTOL - black-and-tan female BRUTE - black-and-tan male RIPPER - black-and-tan female REVOLVER - black-and-tan male AXE - large black-and-brown male SCYTHE - large black-and-tan female BLUDGEON - massive black-and-tan male MUSKET - black-and-brown male CANNON - brown-and-tan female LANCE - black-and-tan male ARROW - young black-and-tan male OMEGA: smaller black-and-brown male (also known as Bullet) PUPS: FANG - brown-and-tan male LONE ~ Erin Hunter

You're too late. She's my wife."
"No, she's your widow."
His revolver cracked, and I saw the blood spurt from the front of Woodley's waistcoat. He spun round with a scream and fell upon his back, his hideous red face turning suddenly to a dreadful mottled pallor. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle

The pure playfulness of certain wholly whimsical portions of (Charles) Cros's work should not obscure the fact that at the center of some of his most beautiful poems a revolver is leveled straight at us. ~ Andre Breton

About a week earlier I had finished a book (on the Hell's Angels, scheduled this fall by Random House) and I felt that I needed about a week of total degeneration to cool out my system. To this end I went down to Big Sur and Monterery and filled my body with every variety of booze and drug available to modern man. For six or seven days I ran happily amok - spending money, sitting in baths, and futilely hunting wild boar with a .44 Magnum revolver. At one point I gave my car away to a man who paid $25 for the privilege of pushing it off a 400-foot cliff.
- to Max Scherr editor, Berkley Barb 7/20/1966 ~ Hunter S. Thompson

Rooster said, "Fill your hand, you son of a bitch!" and he took the reins in his teeth and pulled the other saddle revolver and drove his spurs into the flanks of his strong horse Bo and charged directly at the bandits. It was a sight to see. He held the revolvers wide on either side of the head of his plunging steed. The four bandits accepted the challenge and they likewise pulled their arms and charged their ponies ahead. ~ Charles Portis