Gun In My Hand Quotes & Sayings

When Texas seceded from the Union, the German preacher, Peter Moeling, wrote from Galveston: "I shall die a true patriot and a soldier of the Cross, the gun in hand and Christ within my heart. — Ross Phares

A squirrel is the same as a can, when there's a bb gun in my hand. Can't you see that I am just a man? With distinctions ... and comparisons. — Demetri Martin

I was born the son of a lawless man, always spoke my mind with a gun in my hand. — Christopher Cross

We need to have an escape plan.""
"I'll shoot him," Bradley offered helpfully.
"He has your gun,"Mary replied.
"Oh, then that won't work."
Mary sighed. Somehow she didn't think that Bradley's warrior-police guy was coming back anytime soon.
"So, how do your legs feel?" she asked.
She felt a large hand squeeze her thigh.
"Bradley, that was my leg."
"Oh, sorry, but what a relief, I thought I had lost feeling in my legs. — Terri Reid

I come bearing an olive branch in one hand, and the freedom fighter's gun in the other. Do not let the olive branch fall from my hand. — Yasser Arafat

Too bad you didn't just take Max up on his offer, Four. Well, too bad for you, anyway," says Eric quietly as he clicks the bullet into its chamber. My lungs burn; I haven't breathed in almost a minute. I see Tobias's hand twitch in the corner of my eye, but my hand is already on my gun. I press the barrel to Eric's forehead. His eyes widen, and his face goes slack, and for a second he looks like another sleeping Dauntless soldier. My index finger hovers over the trigger. "Get your gun away from his head," I say. "You won't shoot me," Eric replies. "Interesting theory. " I say. — Veronica Roth

I shut the door and waited to see what she would do. To my surprise she lowered the gun but kept it in her hands. "I'll give you five minutes to explain."
I opened my mouth to begin but she held up a hand. "First let me get you some pants. — Cambria Hebert

So I'm guessing you're Seven and Ten; What can you do?" I say as I find our rifles in the sand and hand each of them a gun.
"You can call me Marina," the girl with the brown hair says. "And I can breathe under water and see in the dark and heal the sick and wounded. And I have telekinesis."
Call me Ella, I hear ten say in my head. Aside from my telepathy, I can change ages.
"Awesome. I'm four, that nut job with the long black hair is nine and the beast is my chimaera, Bernie Kosar. — Pittacus Lore

You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."
He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin.
"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.
His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."
"Why ... " I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"
"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just want to see it again. Want to see you awake. — Veronica Roth

I can only watch as the officer lays my sister next to me. Her eyes are on mine as he brings the butt of his gun down, shattering the bones in her sewing hand. — Victoria Aveyard

So I feared not just the violence of this world but the rules designed to protect you from it, the rules that would have you contort your body to address the block, and contort again to be taken seriously by colleagues, and contort again so as not to give the police a reason. All my life I'd heard people tell their black boys and black girls to "be twice as good," which is to say "accept half as much." These words would be spoken with a veneer of religious nobility, as though they evidenced some unspoken quality, some undetected courage, when in fact all they evidenced was the gun to our head and the hand in our pocket. This is how we lose our softness. This is how they steal our right to smile. — Ta-Nehisi Coates

I had the whole road to myself, for no one was yet stirring, and I walked on, with a slouching, dogged gait. The gray shooting-jacket was on my back, and from the end of my brother's rifle hung a small bundle of my clothes. My fingers worked moodily at the stock and trigger, and I thought that this indeed was the way to begin life, with a gun in your hand! — Herman Melville

I want you back, Annabelle." This time my laughter is full of nothing but genuine humor. It's that 'oh my god, I can't believe that' kind of humor. I lean forward and put my face in my palms, still laughing. "Holy crap," I say in-between laughs, "that's hilarious." I peek up at him to see his disgruntled expression and then bust up laughing again. "I'm serious," he grunts out, looking cute in his exasperation, damn him. Not done, I hold up a hand. "Oh, oh, wait. Just let me go get my gun so you can shoot me again. Of course I want to get back together with you, Gabriel." Putting on a serious face, I say earnestly, "He shoots me because he loves me. — April Brookshire

Hey Joe, where you going with that gun in your hand? I'm going out to find my woman, caught her messing around with another man. — Jimi Hendrix

No one is protecting you. You are all alone, aren't you?" he asks while he lets my elbow drop from his hand.
I can no longer see his face clearly because my tears are making it impossible, but unfortunately for him, I've found what I've been searching for in my bag. "I don't need anyone to protect me when I have this!" I say in a desperate tone.
Pushing the Taser into his side, I release the safety and pull the trigger. The hot, kinetic sizzle of electricity snarls through the gun and into his torso, but Reed doesn't fall down and start twitching like in the demonstration video. Instead, his eyebrows shoot up in an expression somewhere between disbelief and amazement as he asks, "Are you serious? — Amy A. Bartol

The gun was in Mrs. Jones's left hand. She put her right hand behind her, between my legs, then held on to my cock like it was a leash. — Eric Jerome Dickey

All of those thousands upon thousands of photographs my father had taken. Think of them instead. Each one a record, a testament, a bulwark against forgetting, against nothingness, against death. Look, this happened. A thing happened, and now it will never un happen. Here it is in a photograph: a baby putting its tiny hand in the wrinkled palm of an octogenarian. A fox running across a woodland path and a man raising a gun to shoot it. A plane crash. A comet smeared across a morning sky. A prime minister wiping his brow. The Beatles, sitting at a cafe table on the Champs-Elysees on a cold January day in 1964, John Lennon's pale face under the brim of a fisherman's cap. all these things happened, and my father committed them to a memory that wasn't just his own, but the world's. My father's life wasn't about disappearance. His was a life that worked against it. — Helen Macdonald

Israel should not feel satisfaction at my son's death, for he died on the battlefield, facing the conquerors as he wished, with a gun in his hand. — Hassan Nasrallah

I can't fire my gun without bringing attention to myself while surrounded by more zombies than tweens at a One Direction concert, and I cannot win in a hand to hand fight. Against the zombie, not One Direction. I'd destroy those guys. — Tracey Ward

I have your gun" I pulled the Ruger out of my bag and gave it to Ranger. He held the gun flat in his hand and looked at it. "It smells like orange blossoms."
"I washed it and sprayed it with air freshener"
"You washed it?"
"I wore rubber gloves and scrubbed it with my vegetable brush. It was.. icky"
He yanked open the driver's side door, pulled me out of the car, and kissed me. The kiss involved tongue, and a hand on my ass, and made my nipples tingle.
"I can always count on you to brighten my day" Ranger said.
Ranger drove off, and I got back into the Buick.
"That was hot," Lula said. "Imagine what he'd do if you washed his Glock
After Stephanie threw up on Rangers gun. — Janet Evanovich

If you were alone when you were born, alone when you were dying, really absolutely alone when you were dead, why "learn to be alone" in between? If you had forgotten, it would quickly come back to you. Aloneness was like riding a bike. At gunpoint. With the gun in your own hand. Aloneness was the air in your tires, the wind in your hair. You didn't have to go looking for it with open arms. With open arms, you fell off the bike: I was drinking my wine too quickly. — Lorrie Moore

If I wanted to be agreed with or fed my own opinion I would be sitting in front of a mirror, not a computer. If I was concerned with a stranger's opinion of me I would have a gun in my hand, not a keyboard. — Christy Leigh Stewart

I do not even hate the Talib who shot me. Even if there was a gun in my hand and he stands in front of me, I would not shoot him. — Malala Yousafzai

My instinct was always have your gun in your hand. Especially when you are telling somebody to do something.
But, in fact, the police academy discourages this. They feel your gun should rarely, if ever, be brought out of its holster. Most certainly not when children are involved, which is exactly when I saw myself using my gun most often. A truant teenager loitering outside a movie theater is going to be far more motivated to return to school when he has the barrel of a .45 pressed against his cheek. — Augusten Burroughs

Alec deadpanned, "You didn't just 'Call my name', you shouted it like you were being murdered."

An image of the gun going off in my nightmare struck me, but I shook it off.

"I would have screeched or at the very least given a high-pitched white-woman scream if I was being murdered. I wouldn't have shouted at all if I knew it would have upset you this much."

Alec looked exhausted as he rubbed his hand over his gorgeous face. "Why a white-woman?"

I shrugged, again. "It's usually the white ones who scream the loudest that get killed in the slasher films. — L.A. Casey

Luke came to me and took the gun out of my hand. "I need to find a way to erase the last three minutes," he muttered, sounding aggrieved.
"Why?" I asked.
"I just watched my boy's sister strip. There's laws against that," he replied, not taking his eyes off Mace ... but I had a feeling what Luke was doing was studiously avoiding seeing me in sequined undies and stripper shoes.
"No there's not," I said to Luke and he finally looked at me.
"Babe, there are. Trust me," he stated. — Kristen Ashley

Four sits down on the edge of the carousel, leaning against a plastic horse's foot. His eyes lift to the sky, where there are no stars, only a round moon peking through a thin layer of clouds. The muscles in his arms are relaxed; his hand rests on the back of his neck. He looks almost comfortable, holding that gun to his shoulder. I close my eyes briefly. Why does he distract me so easily? I need to focus. — Veronica Roth

My mama didn't see it comin, my daddy was there.
What's my excuse? Cartoons were the root.
Started with Yosemite Sam
With the gun in the palm of the hand,
What couldn't I demand? — Pusha T

[Tuco is in a bubble bath. The One Armed Man enters the room.]
One Armed Man: I've been looking for you for 8 months. Whenever I should have had a gun in my right hand, I thought of you. Now I find you in exactly the position that suits me. I had lots of time to learn to shoot with my left.
[Tuco kills him with the gun he has hidden in the foam.]
Tuco: When you have to shoot, shoot, don't talk. — Sergio Leone

Your name is a -- bird in my hand
a piece of -- ice on the tongue
one single movement of the lips.
Your name is: five signs,
a ball caught in flight, a
silver bell in the mouth

a stone, cast in a quiet pool
makes the splash of your name, and
the sound is in the clatter of
night hooves, loud as a thunderclap
or it speaks straight into my forehead,
shrill as the click of a cocked gun.

Your name -- how impossible, it
is a kiss in the eyes on
motionless eyelashes, chill and sweet.
Your name is a kiss of snow
a gulp of icy spring water, blue
as a dove. About your name is: sleep. — Marina Tsvetaeva

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

When he pulled out his gun weighted with a meaning I couldn't quite comprehend, placing it silently in my hand, I understood that my words didn't matter to a man intent on speaking the language of the unforgiven. — Rachel Thompson

By what judgment am I judged? What is the accusation against me? Am I to be accused of my own betrayal? Am I to blame because you are my enemies? Yours is the responsibility, the knowledge, the power. I trusted you, you played with me as a cat plays with a mouse, and now you accuse me. I had no weapon against you, not realizing that there was need for weapons until too late. This is your place; you are at home here. I came as a stranger, alone, without a gun in my hand, bringing only a present that I wanted to give you. Am I to blame because the gift was unwelcome? Am I accused of the untranslated indictment against myself? Is it my fault that a charge has been laid against me in a different language? Is my offense that I stood too long on your threshold, holding a present that was unsuitable? Am I accused because you, wanting a victim and not a friend, threw away the only thing which I had to give? — Anna Kavan

Right so, I like girls. And I've liked 'em all my life. I was a marine. I've shot a gun. I own five of them, guns that is. I watch the Nuggets, Avs, Broncos and Rockies. I've never in my life worn a skirt. I wear a sports bra because with these babies," she circled her bosoms with a pointed finger before dropping her hand to the checkout desk, "I got no choice. God saw fit to grant me an A cup, no way. Since I'm a C, I'm fucked. I have never worn mascara. I do not own a blow dryer. And I get off on goin' down on chicks. Now which one, you or me, has more in common with Chace Keaton? — Kristen Ashley

So I pulled a gun on him and demanded his wallet."
The soda in my mouth becomes the soda in my nose. "You had a gun?" I cough and sputter into my napkin.
Mom's eyes go round and she pressed her finger to her lips, mouthing, "Shhh!"
"Where did you get a gun?" I hiss.
"Oliver lent it to me. He was always looking out for me. Told me to shoot first and run. He said the asking-questions-later part was for the police." She grins at my expression. "Does that earn me cool points?"
I swirl a fry in the mound of ketchup on my plate. "You want cool points for pulling a gun on my father?" I say it with all the appropriate disdain and condescension it deserves, but deep down, we both know she gets mega cool points for it.
"Psh." She waves her hand. "I didn't even know whether or not it would fire. And anyway, he didn't hand me his wallet. He propositioned me instead."
"Okay. Ew."
"Not like that, you brat. — Anna Banks

While at Colonel Niel's marquee I saw a detail of soldiers bring out a man by the name of Rowland, whom they were going to shoot to death with musketry, by order of a court-martial, for desertion. He was being hauled to the place of execution in a wagon, sitting on an old gun box, which was to be his coffin. When they got to the grave, which had been dug the day before, the water had risen in it, and a soldier was baling it out. Rowland spoke up and said, 'Please hand me a drink of that water, as I want to drink out of my own grave so the boys will talk about it when I am dead, and remember Rowland. — Sam R. Watkins

When I was young, I was a hunter, walking wooded hillsides with confident steps and a gun in my hand. I knew the blur of wings, the rocketing form, and the Great Moment that only hunters know, when all existence draws down to two points and a single line. And the universe holds it breath. And what may be and what will be meet and become one - before the echo returns to its source. — Pete Dunne

After about midday my dad sent cars from his private collection for us. We were told to get in. We had almost lost contact with my father and brothers because things had got out of hand. I saw with my own eyes the [Iraqi] army withdrawing and the terrified faces of the Iraqi soldiers who, unfortunately, were running away and looking around them. Missiles were falling on my left and my right - they were not more than fifty or one hundred metres away. We moved in small cars. I had a gun between my feet just in case. — Raghad Hussein

Kenji turns to look at me. He manages a goofy smile. "Aw, you trust me?"
"As long as I have a clear shot." I tighten my hold on the gun in my hand.
His grin is crooked. "I don't know why, but I kind of like it when you threaten me."
"That's because you're an idiot."
"Nah." he shakes his head. "You've got a sexy voice. Makes everything sound naughty."
Adam stands up so suddenly he nearly knocks over the coffee table. — Tahereh Mafi

Give me the gun." Ranger said.
I extracted the gun from my pants and handed it over.
Ranger held the gun in the pulm of his hand and smiled. "It's warm," he said. He put the gun in the glove compartment and plugged the key into the ignition.
Am I fired?"
No. Any women who can heat up a gun like that is worth keeping around. — Janet Evanovich

I want to kill the president because I no like the capitalists. I have the gun in my hand, I kill kings and presidents first and next all capitalists. — Giuseppe Zangara

Hey, give me my gun, would you?" Zane asked as he shifted, only to wince as the skin pulled.
"Why, you planning on shooting me in the ass when I turn around?" Ty asked sarcastically as he reached for the holster.
"Tempting, but you'd probably get off on it," Zane said, holding out his hand. — Abigail Roux

I'm looking to do an action film where I can run with my shirt off and a gun in my hand; and do like a 'Taken' role and get up on one knee and kill the bad guy. — Bobb'e J. Thompson

Daniel's chocolate eyes studied her, and a wave of heat stung her cheeks. What did he think? He said nothing, just raked her with a gaze that made her feel self-conscious and gangly.
He stood and held out his hand. I'd better take my gun. Confusion thickened her tongue. Your gun? I'll have to protect you from the other men. He grinned but the admiration in his eyes was clear. — Colleen Coble

My generation, we were kind of raised on the super-cool, "I can handle anything" with a gun in his hand hero. Any situation you throw at him, he can handle it - with catchphrases. It was very cool. But Joss Whedon's version of a hero doesn't always win. He loses more than he wins, and when he wins, the victories are tiny, but he takes 'em. "That's a victory! I call that a victory!" It's a tiny victory - he takes it, and that's what he walks away with. And that's something I can actually relate to. — Amy Pascale

He thought: Oh, I have fed on honey-dew. On wine and whiskey and champagne and the tender white meat of women and fine clothes and the respect of strong men and the fear of weak and the turn of a card and good horses and the crisp of greenbacks and the cool of mornings and all the elbow room that God or man could ask for. I have had high times. But the best times of all were afterward, just afterward, with the gun warm in my hand, the bite of smoke in my nose, the taste of death on my tongue, my heart high in my gullet, the danger past, and then the sweat, suddenly, and the nothingness, and the sweet clean feel of being born. — Glendon Swarthout

When I snatched the gun out of his hand, it fired because the hammer was already pulled back. It made the thunderous sound that the .357 magnum is known for. Even though the sound itself was deafening, it was like beautiful music to my ears. Just a few short seconds ago, the odds were greatly stacked against me. Now the tides had turned. The odds were now stacked against them, and they knew it. When I turned around to face my pursuers, they were in an all-out retreat. All I saw were their backs. — Drexel Deal

Every time I was cast in a role, the director put a gun in my hand, so I figured I'd better learn how to use one. Then I found out I really liked it. — Michael Rooker

I want education for the sons and daughters of the Taliban and all the terrorists and extremists. I do not even hate the Talib who shot me. Even if there was a gun in my hand and he was standing in front of me, I would not shoot him. This is the compassion I have learned from Mohammed, the prophet of mercy, Jesus Christ and Lord Buddha. — Malala Yousafzai

I cough, swirling, trying to gain my bearings. It is all black. There are footfalls around me, random screams followed by a blast of a gun. Falling to both knees, I crawl through the soft powder that had moments before been living, my hand outstretched in search of a wall so that I might ground myself. There is a swish overhead, and a screeching sound like a door needing oil. A tusk rolls to me, and I realize it had been thrown my way. — Lindsay Anderson

Tlaloci's head exploded in a shower of brains and bone. The pieces rained down on me, and the body fell to one side, obsidian blade scraping along the stone floor as the hand convulsed around the hilt. I stared across the cave and saw Olaf standing at the foot of the stone steps. He was still standing in his shooting stance, one-handed, gun still pointed at where the priest had been standing. He blinked, and I watched the concentration leave his face, watched something close to human spill across his face. He started walking towards me, gun at his side. The other hand held a knife, bloody to the hilt. I was wiping Tlaloci's brains off my face when Olaf came to stand in front of me. "I never thought I'd say this, but damn I'm glad to see you." He actually smiled. "I saved your life." That made me smile. "I know." Ramirez — Laurell K. Hamilton

Look,' I said, struggling to keep up, 'I just wanna make one thing absolutely clear. I don't believe in guns. I just want peace. Okay?'
Alessandro stopped in the middle of the corridor, took out the gun, and wrapped my hand around it before I realized what he was doing. 'Can you feel that? That's a gun. It exists. And there are a lot of people out there who do believe in it. So, excused me for taking care of them so you can have your peace. — Anne Fortier

I won the argument against the knife that night, but barely. I had some other good ideas around that time
about how jumping off a building or blowing my brains out with a gun might stop the suffering. but something about spending a night with a knife in my hand did it.
The next morning I called my friend Susan as the sun came up, begged her to help me. I don't think a woman in the whole history of my family had ever done that before, had ever sat in the middle of the road like that and said, in the middle of her life, I cannot walk another step further
somebody has to help me. — Elizabeth Gilbert

Aw, you trust me?"
"As long as I have a clear shot." I tighten my hold on the gun in my hand. — Tahereh Mafi

For one ... If you shoot me and your boss realizes it was without good reason, you'll have fucked up your trial period. And trust me; I know you're still in it." Ian pulled open a drawer in a small brown cabinet.
"Secondly, it could end very badly for me and I'd rather prevent that. Getting shot is not on my list of things to do today." He wrapped his hand around the steel grip of his own weapon and removed it from the drawer.
"And last but not least, if you plan to shoot me ... Well, it'll be a matter of which of us is quicker and has better aim." A pleasant smile crossed his features and he casually waved the gun from side to side. "Do you want to risk it? — Natasha McNeely

I didn't want to hear this. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Necromancer with a chaser of werewolf; a drink to make any vampire giddy." He giggled. Jean-Claude never giggled. I ignored him, if you can ignore an intoxicated vampire. "Jason, can you stand?" "I think so." His voice was thick, heavy but not sleepy, more the languor after sex. Maybe I was glad my bite had hurt. "Larry?" Larry walked over to us, glancing at Magnus, gun naked in his hand. He didn't look happy. "Can we trust him?" "We're going to," I said. "Help me stand up, and let's get out of here before fangface busts a gut." Jean-Claude was doubled over with laughter. He seemed to think "fangface" was outrageously funny. Ye gods. Larry — Laurell K. Hamilton

And then the Turkish gendarmes and zaptieh went from Armenian house to Armenian house confiscating weapons or anything they thought might be one. If possible, the priest would come to warn each family that the gendarmes or the zaptieh were coming so they could prepare. The zaptieh knocked on Armenian doors any time of day or night, and they preferred coming at night. They came to the Kazanjians, and the Arslanians, and the Meugerditchians, and to the Hovsepians and Haroutiunians and to the Shekerlemedjians. And finally, they came to our house in the evening after dinner. Three men in dark brown uniforms walked into the foyer and through the courtyard and said to my mother that if she did not hand over every gun in the house, we would be killed. — Peter Balakian

I said, Quiet!"
Tiffany was so much startled by this peremptory reminder that she gasped, and stood staring up at the Nonesuch as though she could not believe that he was speaking not to his cousin, but actually to her. She drew in her breath audibly, and clenched her hands. Miss Trent cast a look of entreaty at sir Waldo, but he ignored it. He strolled up to the infuriated beauty, and pushed up her chin.
"Now, you may listen to me, my child!" he said sternly. "You are becoming a dead bore, and I don't tolerate bores. Neither do I tolerate noisy tantrums. Unless you want to be soundly smacked, enact me no ill-bred scenes!"
There was a moment's astonished silence. Laurence broke it, seizing his cousin's hand, and fervently shaking it.
"I knew you was a right one!" he declared. "A great gun, Waldo! Damme, a Trojan! — Georgette Heyer