Gun Quotes

“She whirled when the monster was almost on top of her. I thought the thing in her hands was an umbrella until she cranked the pump and the shotgun blast blew the giant twenty feet backwards, right into Nico's sword.
"Nice one," Paul said.
"When did you learn to fire a shotgun?" I demanded.
My mom blew the hair out of her face. "About two seconds ago. Percy, we'll be fine. Go!”
― Rick Riordan, The Last Olympian

“Well my gun fires seven different shades of shit, so what's your favorite color, punk?”
― Gerard Way

“The rifle itself has no moral stature, since it has no will of its own. Naturally, it may be used by evil men for evil purposes, but there are more good men than evil, and while the latter cannot be persuaded to the path of righteousness by propaganda, they can certainly be corrected by good men with rifles.”
― Jeff Cooper, The Art of the Rifle

“Western civilization is a loaded gun pointed at the head of this planet.”
― Terence McKenna

“Put a gun to my head and paint the wall with my brains.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

“As she’d left, I’d glanced at her gun.
This time, when she’d pointed it at me, she’d flicked the safety on. If that wasn’t true love, I don’t know what was.”
― Brandon Sanderson, Firefight

“A gun I had been brought down by a gun. It was practically comical. Cheaters, I thought. I’d spent my life focusing on hand to hand combat, learning to dodge fangs and powerful hands that could snap my neck. A gun? It was so… well, easy. Should I be insulted? I didn’t know. Did it matter? I didn’t know that either. All I knew in that moment was that I was going to die, regardless.”
― Richelle Mead, Last Sacrifice

“An overhead light blinked and extinguished.
Armitage drew the pistol with his right hand. He swung and aimed, checking there were no innocent people obstructing the way. None. Fired a single shot. It sailed over a plant and table setting. The round hit an inch from the watcher's heart. On impact the brown-haired assailant tipped. Jake ducked. A table toppled. The watcher groaned as the force of the momentum pushed him toward the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
A second table collapsed, plates thrown asunder. Jake stepped forward, arm stretched and gun straight. A waitress hugged herself, crying. Two more male patrons hit the floor and crawled between chairs.”
― Simon W. Clark, The Russian Ink

“I foresee no possibility of venturing into themes showing a closer view of reality for a long time to come. The public itself will not have it. What it wants is a gun and a girl.”
― D.W. Griffith

“Great, they give blind kids guns," I said, trying to lessen his horror. "I don't even let Iggy have a gun. Usually.”
― James Patterson, Angel

“Don't have to see," the pilot grunted. "Olga knows the way."
"Funny name for an aircraft," Grace commented. "Is it after your wife?"
"My gun."
Grace stared at him. "You named your plane after a gun?"
"It was a very good gun.”
― Gordon Korman, Vespers Rising

“Whatever happens, we have got
The Maxim gun, and they have not.”
― Hilaire Belloc

“You can get much further with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.”
― Al Capone

“I decry the injustice of my wounds, only to look down and see that I am holding a smoking gun in one hand and a fistful of ammunition in the other.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“Something woke me up. My hand instinctively reached for my gun, and I sat up. It sounded like someone was trying to push the door open. But how could that be? There was a secure lock and chain hook which all hotel room doors have. My breathing slowed while my heart raced.”
― Behcet Kaya, Uncanny Alliance

“It is not the dead rather the ones who lives through war have seen the dreadful end of the war, you might have been victorious, unwounded but deep within you, you carry the mark of the war, you carry the memories of war, the time you have spend with your comrades, the times when you had to dug in to foxholes to avoid shelling, the times when you hate to see your comrade down on the ground, feeling of despair, atrocities of the war, missing families, home. They live through hell and often the most wounded, they live with the guilt, despair, of being in the war, they may be happy but deep down they are a different person. Not everyone is a hero. You live with the moments, time when you were unsuccessful, when your actions would have helped your comrades, when your actions get your comrades killed, you live with regret, joyous in the victory can never help you forget the time you have spent. You are victorious for the people you have lost, the decisions you have made, the courage you have shown but being victorious in the war has a price to pay, irrevocable.

You can't take a memory back from a person, even if you lose your memory your imagination haunts you as deep down your sub conscious mind you know who you are, who you were. Close you eyes and you can very well see your past, you cant change your past, time you have spent, you live through all and hence you are a hero not for the glorious war for the times you have faced. Decoration with medals is not going to give your life back. the more you know, more experiences doesn't make it easy rather make its worse. Arms and ammunition kills you once and free you from the misery but the experiences of war kills you everyday, makes you cherish the times everyday through the life. You may forgot that you cant walk anymore, you may forget you cant use your right hand, you may forgot the scars on your face but you can never forgot war. Life without war is never easy and only the ones how survived through it can understand. Soldiers are taught to fight but the actual combat starts after war which you are not even trained for. You rely on your weapon, leaders, comrades, god, luck in the war but here you rely on your self to beat the horrors,they have seen hell, heaven, they have felt the mixed emotions of hope, despair, courage, victory, defeat, scared.”
― Pushpa Rana, Just the Way I Feel

“I’m trying to decide
Which way to go
I think I made a wrong turn back there somewhere

Didn’t cha know, didn’t cha know
Tried to move but I lost my way
Didn’t cha know, didn’t cha know
Stopped to watch my emotions sway
Didn’t cha know, didn’t cha know
Knew the toll, but I would not pay
Didn’t cha know, didn’t cha know
Cause you never know where the cards may lay

Time to save the world
Where in the world is all the time
So many things I still don’t know
So many times I’ve changed my mind
Guess I was born to make mistakes
But I ain’t scared to take the weight
So when I stumble off the path
I know my heart will guide me back”
― Erykah Badu

“War is not just the shower of bullets and bombs from both sides, it is also the shower of blood and bones on both sides.”
― Amit Kalantri, Wealth of Words

“Judging by the sounds of general panic, I want a gun like that.”
― Howard Tayler, Under New Management

“Moshe was an Israeli with an ear-slitting laugh. He used it in the same way as a madman uses a gun, spraying it around with bewildering randomness.”
― Alex Garland, The Beach

“Watching the lecture hall fill for a while longer, Rummings picked up the gun, rested the barrel on the parapet and waited expectantly. A senior mining executive walked up to a rostrum and began to talk to the waiting audience.
Rummings took careful aim and squeezed the trigger. A large hole appeared in the curtain glazing surrounding the building and the executive staggered sideways.
After pumping a few more bullets into the dying man’s body, Rummings abandoned the rifle, ran back to the exit door, paused long enough to strip off the coveralls and then raced down the stairs. Once in the corridor, he deliberately slowed himself down, calmly called a lift and went down to the ground floor again.”
― Andrew R. Williams, Samantha's Revenge

“She had a voice so husky it could have pulled a dogsled, and the gun she was holding gave me a bad case of barrel envy.”
― Patrick Major Dallas OR

“I shouted into the phone, but there was no reply. Silence floated up from the receiver like smoke from the mouth of a gun.”
― Haruki Murakami, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World

“You can get much farther with a kind word and a gun than you can with a kind word alone.”
― Al Capone

“Neil didn’t know how long he played with his little league team, but his hands remembered the weight of a racquet as well as they did that of a gun”
― Nora Sakavic, The Foxhole Court

“A gun is more important here than the Koran.”
― Jameson Currier, The Third Buddha

“He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling.
“What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded.
That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered.
“I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.”
“I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted.
“You’re a lying mutant freak!”
“They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted.
Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “We are not going down that path, people, dividing up between freaks and normals.”
“They already did it!” Zil cried. “It’s the freaks acting all special and like their farts don’t stink.”
That earned a laugh.
“And now they’re starting to kill us,” Zil cried.
Angry cheers.
Edilio squared his shoulders and stepped into the crowd. He went first to Hank, the kid with the shotgun. He tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Give me that thing.”
“No way,” Hank said. But he didn’t seem too certain.
“You want to have that thing fire by accident and blow someone’s face off?” Edilio held his hand out. “Give it to me, man.”
Zil rounded on Edilio. “You going to make Hunter give up his weapon? Huh? He’s got powers, man, and that’s okay, but the normals can’t have any weapon? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from the freaks?”
“Man, give it a rest, huh?” Edilio said. He was doing his best to sound more weary than angry or scared. Things were already bad enough. “Zil, you want to be responsible if that gauge goes off and kills Astrid? You want to maybe give that some thought?”
Zil blinked. But he said, “Dude, I’m not scared of Sam.”
“Sam won’t be your problem, I will be,” Edilio snapped, losing patience. “Anything happens to her, I’ll take you down before Sam ever gets the chance.”
Zil snorted derisively. “Ah, good little boy, Edilio, kissing up to the chuds. I got news for you, dilly dilly, you’re a lowly normal, just like me and the rest of us."
“I’m going to let that go,” Edilio said evenly, striving to regain his cool, trying to sound calm and in control, even though he could hardly take his eyes off the twin barrels of the shotgun. “But now I’m taking that shotgun.”
“No way!” Hank cried, and the next thing was an explosion so loud, Edilio thought a bomb had gone off. The muzzle flash blinded him, like camera flash going off in his face.
Someone yelled in pain.
Edilio staggered back, squeezed his eyes shut, trying to adjust. When he opened them again the shotgun was on the ground and the boy who’d accidentally fired it was holding his bruised hand, obviously shocked.
Zil bent to grab the gun. Edilio took two steps forward and kicked Zil in the face. As Zil fell back Edilio made a grab for the shotgun. He never saw the blow that turned his knees to water and filled his head with stars.
He fell like a sack of bricks, but even as he fell he lurched forward to cover the shotgun.
Astrid screamed and launched herself down the stairs to protect Edilio.
Antoine, the one who had hit Edilio, was raising his bat to hit Edilio again, but on the back swing he caught Astrid in the face.
Antoine cursed, suddenly fearful. Zil yelled, “No, no, no!”
There was a sudden rush of running feet. Down the walkway, into the street, echoing down the block.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“Here's a good one. God made man. Guns made man equal. Guns are the legacy of liberty.
Just because...just because our magazine doesn't feature a naked woman on the cover!
Hell, no, there's no naked women. The sickos would rather squeeze a trigger than a woman's breast. Guns are good old boys! They got them wham-whap two-fisted names, like...like Savage, Colt, Ruger, Baretta, Sigs, Winchester...
Springfield!
Browning!
Luger.
Smith & Wesson.
Remington Viper.
Glock. Don't forget Glock!
Markov, Walther!
H and K.
Mauser parabellum.
Anschutz.
Magnum! All sorts of mags.
I quit, you win. Mags are it.”
― Leon Uris, A God in Ruins

“Bill was nineteen again. He wished that the real gun was in a toy box somewhere; it would be much safer there. Bill wasn’t strong enough to resist Sammy, and he even doubted if he was fast enough. Sammy was much bigger and clearly much stronger and Bill had lost the boldness he might have summoned on any other day.
Bill had lost control of this situation before it had started. All he could think of was the gun, he could feel its every lump and corner. By the time Sammy punched him, it was destined to fall with a familiar clack onto the concrete. Being beaten up seemed tame in comparison for those few seconds between it being a worry and a reality.
Bill didn’t want to have to use the pistol. But street karma wasn’t going to make him bullet proof. So he decided to make a grab for it anyway. Time froze.”
― Mel Vil, Lies and Hypocrisy

“This" said Wenzil, pointing to the stunner in her cutaway holster, "is an icon of my religion. It would violate my cultural personhood to give it up".”
― David Drake, Blood and War