Showing posts with label kill. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kill. Show all posts

Friday, 12 October 2012

The delight in blood



“But do you understand the joy of killing for its own sake? The delight in blood and the agony of the dying?” She shook her head. “From all I have heard, that is not in the British nature.”
      You should see a Newgate scragging, you poor ignorant aborigine, thinks I.


Flashman on the March, p.108, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Monday, 16 July 2012

His own front-door step



. . . one thing the sight of her distress did for me: I resolved that if Tiger Jack Moran was still alive on Friday morning, it wouldn’t be for want of effort on my part. If the worst came to the worst I’d stalk him home that Thursday night and kill him on his own front-door step and take my chance. (That’s what being a doting grandparent can do to you.)


Flashman and the Tiger, p.304, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.



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Tuesday, 19 June 2012

Towards an honoured grave



But there I was, I say, at a time when I ought to have had nothing to do but drink my way gently towards an honoured grave, spend my wife’s fortune, gorge at the best places, leer at the young women, and generally enjoy a dissolute old age — and suddenly I had to kill Tiger Jack. Nothing else for it.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.274, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 30 March 2012

Gripping Master Starnberg



...what was gripping Master Starnberg was the sheer wanton delight in killing, of adding my distinguished head to his trophy room, of proving his mastery and seeing the fear in the eyes of a beaten opponent at his mercy — I know all about it, you see, for I 've enjoyed it myself, but while it's a luxury the wary coward can afford, it's a weakness in a brave man who's sure of his own superiority, for he forgets what your cold-blooded assassin (and your coward) never forget — that killing is a business, not a pleasure, and you must keep your sense of fun well in check.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.149, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Comb my memoirs



A scoundrel I may be, but I ain’t an assassin, and you will comb my memoirs in vain for mention of Flashy as First Murderer. Oh, I’ve put away more than I can count, in the line of duty, from stark necessity, and once or twice from spite — de Gautet springs to mind, and the pandy I shot at Meerut — but they deserved it. Anyway, I don’t kill chaps I don’t know.


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.194, Harper Collins, 1995.

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Wednesday, 13 July 2011

Scotch nemesis



There was one quiet Lancer, though, a black-whiskered Scotch nemesis who said never a word, and played the bull fiddle for his recreation. He caught my eye then, and again fifteen years later when he led the march to Peking, the most terrible killing gentleman you every saw: Hope Grant.


Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.274, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.


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Friday, 10 June 2011

Could be seen (and heard)



Goolab and the widow could be seen apparently disemboweling the Second Robber, who wasn’t taking it quietly.

Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.180, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.



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Wednesday, 2 March 2011

Retailing rumours



      “The barbarians! Fly for your lives! They are in the city — the streets run with blood! Everyone is dead, the Temple of Heaven is overthrown, the shops are closed!”

Flashman and the Dragon, p.244, Fontana Paperback edition, 1986.



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Tuesday, 9 March 2010

Free of all restraint



It’s the usual way, with civilians suddenly plunged into war and given the chance to kill; for the first time, after years of pushing pens and counting pennies, they’re suddenly free of all restraint, away from wives and families and responsibility, and able to indulge their animal instincts. They go a little crazy after a while, and if you can convince ’em they’re doing the Lord’s work, they soon start enjoying it.



Flashman in the Great Game, p.185, Pan edition, 4th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 1 October 2008

A good horseman?



I’m not justifying myself, either for torturing him or killing him, for I don’t need to. Both had to be done – but I’m honest enough to admit I enjoyed doing both. He was a good horseman though.



Royal Flash, p.185, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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Thursday, 25 September 2008

Killing gents



In a novel, of course, or a play, murders are committed so; the villain leers and gloats, and the victim pleads. In my practical experience, however, killing gentlemen like de Gautet are far too practiced for such nonsense; they shoot suddenly and cleanly and the job’s done.



Royal Flash, p.177, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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