I Love My Rifle More Than You Quotes & Sayings

The war is going on, and I'm singing. But I can't bandage up the wounded like Tala. I can, of course. But so can hundreds of other young women. Let the daring and decisive ones do it, not those like me. No, I'm daring and decisive, too. And I want to sing. It's not my fault that my youth came in time of war! I won't get another youth! And I'm convinced that singing when all around is hatred and death is no less important. Maybe even more important.

This is what I believe: If somewhere on earth the wounded are finished off with rifle butts, that means somewhere else people have to be singing and rejoicing in life! The more death there is around, the more important to counter it with life, love, and beauty! — Mikhail Shishkin

Can you fall in love through a rifle scope? — Peter Heller

He looked around, saw himself mirrored in that man walking back with his rifle. And suddenly, it seemed possible to him that we might love ourselves the most when we are suffering and seen to suffer. The pursuits of men seemed only the more shocking, if this were true. — Karen Fisher

Captain Christopher Phelan
1st Battalion Rifle Brigade
Cape Mapan
Crimea

June 1855

Dearest Christopher,

I can't write to you again.

I'm not who you think I am.

I didn't mean to send love letters, but that is what they became. On their way to you, my words turned into heartbeats on the page.

Come back, please come home and find me.

--[unsigned] — Lisa Kleypas

A story: A man fires a rifle for many years, and he goes to war. And afterward he turns the rifle in at the armory, and he believes he's finished with the rifle. But no matter what else he might do with his hands, love a woman, build a house, change his son's diaper; his hands remember the rifle. — Anthony Swofford

Norbu rejects the Western stereotype of Tibetans as an innately nonviolent people, a romantic notion which he thinks gratifies many Western people discontented with the aggressive selfishness of their societies but obscures the political aspirations of the Tibetan peoples and the variety of means available to them to achieve independence. In 1989, he published a book about one of the Khampa warriors of eastern Tibet, who fought the invading Chinese Army in 1950 and then initiated the bloody revolt against Chinese rule that eventually led to the Dalai Lama's departure for India.
"We are ordinary Tibetans," Norbu told PBS. "We drink; we eat; we feel passion; we love our wives and kids. If someone sort of messes around with them, even if they're an army, you pick up your rifle. — Pankaj Mishra

I like going to rifle and pistol clubs and joining them in target shooting. I also share the same respect for individual initiative and love of family. — Nan Hayworth

Letter Composed During a Lull in the Fighting"


I tell her I love her like not killing
or ten minutes of sleep
beneath the low rooftop wall
on which my rifle rests.

I tell her in a letter that will stink,
when she opens it,
of bolt oil and burned powder
and the things it says.

I tell her how Pvt. Bartle says, offhand,
that war is just us
making little pieces of metal
pass through each other. — Kevin C. Powers

She stepped out of reach. "Go put on a shirt and get your mind out of bed."
"Impossible with you around."
"Pretend I'm holding a rifle. In fact, pretend I have you in the crosshairs."
Janvier sighed, rubbing at a jaw shadowed by morning stubble. "I love it when you talk dirty. — Nalini Singh

And in the silence what followed, I reckon our eyes had some long conversation our mouths could've never talked through. Some long, looking talk about things gone and long since said. About cries out in the night and some long ago tangling of limbs. And about them betrayals done time and time again - by both of us - what led to me pointing the Green Man's rifle at the man what once loved me under the Green Man's stars. — J.D. Jordan

Vietnam, me love you long time. All day, all night, me love you long time.
( ... )
Dropping acid on the Mekong Delta, smoking grass through a rifle barrel, flying on a helicopter with opera blasting out of loudspeakers, tracer-fire and paddy-field scenery, the smell of napalm in the morning.
Long time. — Alex Garland

As a child Valentine's Day was fun. You got to design your own little heart-laden box to accept all your classmate's Valentine's. Then you'd get to fill in the To: and From: fields on your G.I. Joe cards (because nothing says "Be Mine" like Snake Eyes). I remember each time taking extra special care when filling out a card for the girl who I happened to like that particular year. When the day arrived and cards were exchanged I would rifle through my haul finding the one from whichever girl it was and kept it apart from the others. It was special even though I'm sure she'd written the exact same thing on mine that she'd written on everyone else's. No matter, love was given and received. Valentine's Day was for a young boy not yet mature enough to express his affections and for him to hold fast to even a token expression from the object those affections. — Aaron Blaylock

I love a cardboard coffin. Both Mummy and Daddy went off in cardboard coffins, painted - Daddy's was rifle green. Beautifully made. — Joanna Lumley

Oh, hell, no. I saw you with the rifle." He glanced over at her, and his voice went a notch deeper. "It was fucking hot. I love a badass female. — Larissa Ione