revolver

May be the power lies in the hands of the one who holds the gun... so he just presses the trigger whenever the slightest streak of anger passes his mind... and after a few haunting days he roams freely in the country without fear .. and what about the one who faces the wrath and bears the bullets? He leaves a movement behind... but haven't such movements always been ephemeral? Is death the price you need to pay to open the eyes of those who care but just for a couple of days?

There is something about yourself that you don't know. Something that you will deny even exists until it's too late to do anything about it. It's the only reason you get up in the morning, the only reason you suffer the shitty boss, the blood, the sweat and the tears. This is because you want people to know how good, attractive, generous, funny, wild and clever you really are. "Fear or revere me, but please think I'm special." We share an addiction. We're approval junkies. We're all in it for the slap on the back and the gold watch. The "hip, hip, hoo-fucking-rah." Look at the clever boy with the badge, polishing his trophy. Shine on, you crazy diamond. Cos we're just monkeys wrapped in suits, begging for the approval of others.

Geraldine keeps her eyes trained on him as she slowly reaches into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her gun. __Callo, I__ so sorry that your life ended up this way,_ she sighs as she gets out of her side of the car, her feet burning from the cold as her high heels sink into the fallen snow. __ren__ you scared?_____ you, Geraldine_ I fell into the same trap as you, anyway,_ Callo answers. His large eyes are shining with tears, but he doesn__ seem afraid in the least. __The dead don__ feel anything, you know_ not even guilt or regret. So, what is there to be afraid of?

After breakfast I spent an hour cleaning my revolver and trying my skill at a target. Jane shook her head, probably thinking that bullets were vain against demonic powers. But Perdita was hugely delighted with the shining little instrument and wanted it for a plaything; women of all ages will play with death! ("Absolute Evil")

I looked at it [revolver] as if it reminded me of a crime I had committed with an irrepressible smile such as rises sometimes to people__ lips in the face of great catastrophes which are beyond their grasp, the smile that comes at times on certain women__ faces while they are saying they regret the harm they have done. It is the smile of nature quietly and proudly asserting its natural right to kill.