Once, when dust rolled up from the road and the fields were high with heavy-handled wheat and the leaves of every tree were gray a...nd curledup and hung head down, I went in the meadow with an old broom like a gun, where the dandelions had begun to seed and the low ground was cracked, and I flushed grasshoppers from the goldenrod in whirring clouds like quail and shot them down. I smelled wheat in the warm wind and every weed. I tasted dust in my mouth.... I hunted Horse Simon in the shade of a tree. I rode the broom over the brown meadow grass and with a fist like pistol butt and trigger shot the Indian on Horse Simon down.... My horse had a golden tail. Dust rolled up behind. He was on the tractor in a broad-brimmed hat. With a fist like a pistol butt and trigger, going fast, I shot him down.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
John Brown and Giuseppe Garibaldi were contemporaries not solely in the matter of time; their endeavors as liberators link their n...ames where other likeness is absent; and the peaks of their careers were reached almost simultaneously: the Harper's Ferry Raid occurred in 1859, the raid on Sicily in the following year. Both events, however differing in character, were equally quixotic.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Harry Morgan: Walk around me. No, go ahead. Walk around me, clear around. Do ya find anything? Slim/Marie Brown: No, no Steve.... There are no strings tied to you. Not yet.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Slim/Marie Brown: Whadya think you're gonna do? Harry Morgan: I'm gonna get that wallet, Slim.... Marie: I'd rather you wouldn't call me Slim. I'm a little too skinny to take it kindly.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »