A Quote by R. C. Sproul

I'll retire when they pry my cold, dead fingers off of my Bible. — © R. C. Sproul
I'll retire when they pry my cold, dead fingers off of my Bible.
Speaking personally, you can have my gun, but you'll take my book when you pry my cold, dead fingers off of the binding.
You can have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.
I intend to do the Penn & Teller show until they pry my cheesy magic wand from my cold dead fingers.
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.
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!
Retire? Retire from What? Life? I will only retire when I am dead!
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.
I'll never retire. They'll have to take my computer out of my cold, dead hands. I'm addicted to writing. I feel physically unwell if I'm not doing it.
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.
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 I retire doing the character, I don't think the character has to retire. There will still be caricatures of Elvira. You know, Dracula still works, and he's dead.
And what? Accidentally cuts off three fingers postmortem? 'Oops, oh, no, my girlfriend just died! Clumsy me, in trying to perform CPR, I chopped off some fingers! Guess I'll just take them with me.... Oh, darn, where did that middle finger go?
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.
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