For some strange reason I can put five bullets into that red thing in the middle of the target.
He put one hand lightly on the back of her neck and simultaneously she placed one hand lightly on his hip, and they kissed in the street as all around them people hurried home in the summer light, and it was the sweetest kiss that either of them would ever know. This is where it all begins. Everything starts here, today. And then it was over.
I am a very good sniper, and I can put five bullets into that red circle and I know how to throw hand grenades.
My mind's a machine gun, my body's the bullets and the audience is the target.
Thoughts are the gun, words are the bullets, deeds are the target, the bulls-eye is heaven.
Sometimes people get in position where they get in a big movie and overplay their hand. What that huge check does is put a target on an actor's back.
Any time anyone fires bullets in an action movie that don't hit the target it immediately undermines the movie.
It turns out, that men, when they're taking care of their business, they're not fully attending to the task at hand, but, I'm sure there's an evolutionary explanation for this, if you give them a target, they will aim.
My target is to make the players as rich as possible within the financial constraints of the club. My target is not to give them less money. I'm happy to make them rich.
I've met Bob Dylan. We did one of those non-handshake handshakes. I was with all guys, and he shook hands with all of them, and then they said, 'And this is Kate,' and I put my hand out, and he didn't put his out. And then I took my hand away, and he put his out. It was one of those. We finally did shake. And then I fainted!
The Washington Bullets are changing their name. They don't want their team to be associated with crime. From now on, they'll just be known as the Bullets.
Bullets on a presentation slide are too often like bullets in a gun - deadly for those on the receiving end.
In old days there were angels who came and took men by the hand and led them away from the city of destruction. We see no white-winged angels now. But yet men are led away from threatening destruction: a hand is put into theirs, which leads them forth gently towards a calm and bright land, so that they look no more backward; and the hand may be a little child's.
People who disagree with His Excellency, the President for Life and 'Chief of Chiefs,' are frequently found to be the victims of car crashes (their bodies mysteriously riddled with bullets); or dead in their beds of heart attacks (their bodies mysteriously riddled with bullets); or the recipients of some not-quite-fresh seafood (their bodies mysteriously riddled with bullets).
What makes something pop? It's really just the bed it's placed in. If I grab melodies by Black Sabbath or Metallica and take them out of their musical bed and put them into a pop context, it's not like they wouldn't translate.
Thoughts are like bullets. They go right to you. You're like the target. When you walk around and you are depressed or there is fatigue or a behavior which you're not used to, that can be someone else's energy on you. You need to know how to clean that off. Also people want to contact loved ones who have passed over.