A Quote by Charlton Heston

You can have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers. — © Charlton Heston
You can have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.
Speaking personally, you can have my gun, but you'll take my book when you pry my cold, dead fingers off of the binding.
I'll retire when they pry my cold, dead fingers off of my Bible.
I intend to do the Penn & Teller show until they pry my cheesy magic wand from my cold dead fingers.
To the divisive forces that would take freedom away, I want to tell you something: You can have my gun. You can pry it from my cold dead hands!
They can have my beer when they pry it out of my cold, dead hand.
You'll get my assault weapon when you pry it out of my curious six-year-old's cold dead hands.
Join me in standing up against any actual knowledge about guns. Let the CDC know they can take away our ignorance when the pry it from our cold dead minds.
Whatever you are holding onto in this life, hold it loosely so it won’t hurt when the Lord has to pry your fingers open to take it away.
To show you how radical I am, I want carjackers dead. I want rapists dead. I want burglars dead. I want child molesters dead. I want the bad guys dead. No court case. No parole. No early release. I want 'em dead. Get a gun and when they attack you, shoot 'em.
So,” Marasi said, “you traded a dead man’s scarf for another dead man’s gun. But…the gun itself belonged to someone dead, so by the same logic—” “Don’t try,” Waxillium said. “Logic doesn’t work on Wayne.” “I bought a ward against it off a traveling fortune-teller,” Wayne explained. “It lets me add two ’n’ two and get a pickle.
Oh! Your hand is cold." Ashley cupped her fingers against her shirt to warm them. "I've been dead for seven years," Noah said. "That's as warm as they get.
The dead think they can get away with anything because you'll feel sorry for them. If you play cards with the dead, make sure you deal and don't let them buy you drinks. They'll slip you a formaldehyde roofie and pry the gold fillings out of your teeth.
What might be happening in human beings who experience near death is that they are getting cold, but before they get so cold that they would die, they're actually diminishing their oxygen consumption in a way that is unknown. And that extends their survival limits, so they can appear dead but actually not be dead.
If you get to the point in your career where you're running with a gun - I've yet to run with a gun. I've stood still with a gun, and I've walked with a gun, but I've never run with a gun. Running with a gun, to me, that's when you know you've really made it.
She could've looked at the tiny miracles in front of her: my feet, my hands, my fingers, the shape of my shoulders beneath my jacket, my human body, but she only stared at my eyes. The wind whipped again, through the trees, but it had no force, no power over me. The cold bit at my fingers, but they stayed fingers. "Grace," I said, very softly. "Say something." "Sam," she said, and I crushed her to me.
Cold be hand and heart and bone, and cold be sleep under stone: never more to wake on stony bed, never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead. In the black wind the stars shall die, and still on gold here let them lie, till the dark lord lifts his hand over dead sea and withered land.
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