Bullet Catcher Quotes & Sayings

So, seeing as you know all the details already, can I count on you to be best man?" Cole watched fear creep over Blake's face. "The ceremony is at night," he added quickly.
"If Mr. Old Timey is still all jacked up from being a bullet catcher, we'll put it off," Kyle added.
Blake smiled and held his arms open to the female ball of fire. "I'll be fine, Kyle. I wouldn't want you to spend one extra day not married to Cole because of me."
Kyle hugged him carefully. "Your being well is one of the only things that could ever make me wait."
Blake answered Cole's question still hanging in the air. "I'd be honored to serve as your best man. — Debra Anastasia

I could just like down, right here, and let the sand cover me like a blanket. But my legs, clumsy as they've become, keep stumbling forward on their own. I'm not frightened and I'm not sorry. Not even a little bit. Nikko and I shared this fate, six years apart. We both walked into the desert, and we will both have died out here, under the wide open sky. At this moment, I feel closer to him than I have in years. Maybe that's what Endd meant when she said that none of us are ever truly alone. — Joaquin Lowe

The glass is riddled with bullets on either side of The Stranger, but the glass before him is unbroken, as though the bullets didn't dare approach.
That's when I work out what he is: a bullet catcher. — Joaquin Lowe

My footfall rang in a universe that was not theirs. — Antoine De Saint-Exupery

After drinking the blood I feel inches closer to death, but resolved to live. I've drunk blood. I can do anything. I'm the vampire girl. I crawl close to the fox and press myself against it. It's still warm. That's how sleep takes me, with blood on my face, holding close to the fading warmth. — Joaquin Lowe

Before we part, she returns my gun and says, "As long as you carry this you are in danger of using it. — Joaquin Lowe

All my supplies are gone and I'm going to die out here. I thought it would be more frightening, dying, but after so many days walking, after so much hunger and thirst, it's a release. — Joaquin Lowe

Ahead of me is the open desert, hot and merciless. Behind me is Sand. I don't turn back; I don't say goodbye. The Bullet Catcher carves a straight line through the desert, walking towards the distant mountains.
And I follow. — Joaquin Lowe

A surging, seething, murmuring crowd of beings that are human only in name, for to the eye and ear they seem naught but savage creatures, animated by vile passions and by the lust of vengeance and of hate. The hour, some little time before sunset, and the place, the West Barricade, at the very spot where, a decade later, a proud tyrant raised an undying monument to the nation's glory and his own vanity. — Emmuska Orczy

Poe was such a tragic and brilliant figure; he's somebody whom I've been somewhat obsessed with my whole life. I first read 'The Tell-Tale Heart' at age four. — Rose McGowan

The sand doesn't care if you're made of flesh or stone. — Joaquin Lowe

No one is going to try to fill my mother's shoes, what she did was fantastic. It's about making your own future and your own destiny and Kate will do a very good job of that. — Prince William

People are increasingly concerned about unemployment, but Republicans have nothing to offer them. — Bruce Bartlett

Or there, in the clay-baked piedmont of the South, that lean and tan-faced boy who sprawls there in the creaking chair among admiring cronies before the open doorways of the fire department, and tells them how he pitched the team to shut-out victory to-day. What visions burn, what dreams possess him, seeker of the night? The packed stands of the stadium, the bleachers sweltering with their unshaded hordes, the faultless velvet of the diamond, unlike the clay-balked outfields down in Georgia. The mounting roar of eighty thousand voices and Gehrig coming up to bat, the boy himself upon the pitching mound, the lean face steady as a hound's; then the nod, the signal, and the wind-up, the rawhide arm that snaps and crackles like a whip, the small white bullet of the blazing ball, its loud report in the oiled pocket of the catcher's mitt, the umpire's thumb jerked upwards, the clean strike. — Thomas Wolfe