Shotgun Mary Quotes

they would never shame a statue of the Virgin Mary, but in the hot blood of vendetta they would shotgun the Pope himself for breaking omerta,

At the Sound of the Gunshot, Leave A Message That's what my friend spoke into his grim machine the winter he first went mad as we both did in our thirties with still no hope of revenue, gravely inking our poems on pages held fast by gyres the color of lead. Godless, our minds did monster us, left us bobbing as in a swamp until we sank. His eyes were burn holes in a swollen face. His breath was a venom he drank deep of. He called his own tongue a scar, this poet who can crowbar open the most sealed heart, make ash flower, and the cocked shotgun's double-zero mouths (whose pellets had exploded star holes into plaster and porcelain and not a few locked doors) never touched my friend's throat. Praise Him, whose earth is green. (for Franz Wright)

I looked sadly at my final note on the page: July. Five whole months. An eternity. But what did it matter? Holmes and I would go ahead as we were - as we had been before I stood on a London pier and, seeing him resurrected from a fiery death, literally embraced an unexpected future. Patience, Russelll. And yet, I was afraid. That real life would intervene. That doubts would chew at our feet, causing one or both of us to edge away from the brink. That neither of us had really meant it, and the memory of those dockside sensations would turn to threat. That my gift to him was nothing but selfish impulse of an uncertain young girl. I felt his gaze on me, and put on a look of good cheer before raising my face. "Of course. July will do nicely-and will give us plenty of time to arrange a distraction to get your cousin and his shot-guns away from the house." He did not reply. Under his gaze, my smile faltered a bit. "It's fine, Holmes. You have commitments in Europe next month. I have much to do in Oxford. I will be here when you get back." Abruptly, he jumped to his feet and swept across the room to the door. I watched him thrust his long arms into the sleeves of his overcoat. "Thursday, Russell," he said, clapping his hat onto his head. "Be ready on Thursday." "For what?" I asked, but he was gone. For anything, knowing him.

Just win a shotgun goes off

can’t remember how many merit badges I earned—archery, hiking, canoeing, camping, fishing, first aid. I learned how to fire a shotgun. How to tell when a cold front was coming. How to survive outside in a blizzard. How to build a fire. I learned how to tie knots, a figure eight follow-through and a water knot and a safety knot. You never know when that might come in handy.

I didn’t want Marek to go over there, “he says. “It isn’t our fight, I told him. But it’s hard to take insults when you are a young pup. Marek got tired of being called a dumb bohunk just like Eberhard hated being called a Hun. I don’t know what it is with the Anglos of this city. They came from somewhere else, but if you ask them they just say they are Americans. Still we fight for America, same as they do. Pay the same price,” He puts the shotgun on the steps next to him. “I wanted to stay out of it. But Ray told me that we couldn’t bury our heads in the ground. That if the Hapsburg dynasty wins, it will try to rule the world. And I’ll be damned if I live under that yoke again.