Nice Guy Eddie: [on the phone as he drives to the warehouse] All I know is what Vic told me. He said the place turned into a fucking bullet festival. He took a cop as hostage, just to get the fuck outta there. [pause] Nice Guy Eddie: Do I sound like ...
Dr. Manhattan: She was pregnant. And you gunned her down. Edward Blake: That's right. And you know what, you watched me. You could've turned the gun into steam, the bullets into mercury, the bottle into goddamned snowflakes but you didn't, did you? Y...
Erik Lehnsherr: I didn't kill the President. Charles Xavier: The bullet curved, Erik. Erik Lehnsherr: I was trying to save him. Charles Xavier: But why would you do that? Erik Lehnsherr: Because he was one of us. [Charles looks surprised] Erik Lehnsh...
Helen Sinclair: Oh, Julian. Julian Marx. I do plays put on by Balasco, or Sam Harris, not some Yiddish pant salesman turned producer. My ex-husband used to say, "If you're gonna go down, go down with the best of them." Sid Loomis: Which ex-husband? H...
Eden Brent: There you are. Mr. Purcell, you have been stealing our dog yummies and eating them. Warner Purcell: Absolutely not. That's an outrageous suggestion. Eden Brent: Then let me see in your pockets. Warner Purcell: Would I eat dog food? Eden B...
[Doughboy kicks Ferris in his bullet-ridden legs] Ferris: Fuck you man! Fuck you! Doughboy: Turn your punk-ass over! Ferris: I didn't do it man! I didn't pull the fuckin' trigger! What the fuck you doin? Oh, man! Well, fuck you! Fuck you! [Doughboy s...
[Oda has been shot multiple times by Kiriyama in the chest] Toshimori Oda: [laughing] Wow! I survived thanks to my great bullet-proof vest! [hears noise above and behind him and looks] Kazuo Kiriyama: [pulls a samurai sword from its scabbard and leap...
The dark leaden mask hides the devil with a soul of deceit, with his warm syrupy vacuous words coercing, enticing and grasping with exposed sharpened claws, scratching slow at his prey's surface with bullet pointed precision, inserting the slow hot m...
We are hurtling back into a Soviet abyss, into an information vacuum that spells death from our own ignorance. All we have left is the internet, where information is still freely available. For the rest, if you want to go on working as a journalist, ...
The riot had taken on a beauty of its own now. Arcs of gasoline fire under the crescent moon. Crimson tracer in mystical parabolas. Phosphorescence from the barrels of plastic bullet guns. A distant yelling like that of men below decks in a torpedoed...
The schools wear the blank faces of war buildings, their windows blown blind by rocks or guns or mortars. Their plaster is an acne of bullet marks. The huts and small houses crouch open and vulnerable; their doors are flimsy pieces of plyboard or sac...
Glad it was you and not me," Shane said, and offered Myrin a hand up. "Any brain damage?" "Since the bullet actually passed through his brain, then yes, idiot boy, there's certainly brain damage," Oliver said. "It will pass. His brain's the least fra...
If I were a magician who could make things possible, then pictures could talk while we painted them. If I were a magaician who could make things possible, then houses could keep their promises. And they would have to promise not to lose their roofs o...
Amelie seemed to focus on her again. For a few seconds she regarded her, frowning, and then smiled just a little. "So I recall," she said. "Not all wars are waged with bullets and swords, indeed. Some are wars of wills and ideas. It's good we both re...
They're strange, those wars. Full of blood and violence - but full of stories that are equally difficult to fanthom. "It's true," people will mutter. "I don't care if you don't belive me. It was the fox who saved my life" or, "They died on either sid...
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...
When you hear her say, 'What else can an old woman do on hills as wretched as these?' You look right at the sky, Clear through the bullet holes she has for eyes. And you look on the cracks that begin around her eyes spread beyond her skin And the hil...
I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Homes, in one of his queer humours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall ...
The trigger gave; I felt the smooth underside of the butt; and there, in that noise, sharp and deafening at the same time, is where it all started. I shook off the sweat and the sun. I knew that I had shattered the harmony of the day, the exceptional...
Wait,” he said, pulling me to a stop when I tried to march off toward my destiny. “Is there something you want to tell me?” I looked at him, trying to think of anything I’d done recently that I needed to admit to. When nothing came to mind ot...
It had been so silent in the wake of that commotion, a kind of potent silence that seemed to contain everything. The songs of the birds and the creak of the trees. The dying snow and the unseen gurgling water. The glimmering sun. The certain sky. The...
