Listen, my friend, there are two races of beings. The masses teeming and happy--common clay, if you like--eating, breeding, workin...g, counting their pennies; people who just live; ordinary people; people you can't imagine dead. And then there are the others--the noble ones, the heroes. The ones you can quite well imagine lying shot, pale and tragic; one minute triumphant with a guard of honor, and the next being marched away between two gendarmes.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I have always felt that too much time was given before the birth, which is spent learning things like how to breathe in and out wi...th your husband (I had my baby when they gave you a shot in the hip and you didn't wake up until the kid was ready to start school), and not enough time given to how to mother after the baby is born.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
There is only one element that can break the Afrikaner, and that is the Afrikaner himself. It is when the Afrikaner, like a baboon... shot in the stomach, pulls out his own intestines. We must guard against that.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
You know I'd a shot her when she come runnin' up here, but she's got the blame best lookin' legs I ever seen.... Well, I'll be a s...uck egg mule--legs like that and can shoot too.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I shook off the sweat and the sun. I understood that I had destroyed the balance of the day, the exceptional silence of a beach wh...ere I had been happy. Then I shot four more times at an inert body which the bullets penetrated without appearing so. And it was like four brief knocks that I struck on the door of misfortune.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
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 »
Small debts are like small shot; they are rattling on every side, and can scarcely be escaped without a wound: great debts are lik...e cannon; of loud noise, but little danger.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
When they shot him down in the highway, Down like a dog in the highway,... And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »