Showing posts with label run. Show all posts
Showing posts with label run. Show all posts

Tuesday, 8 January 2013

Flashman and the avoidance of Powerpoint



. . . I tried to run, my wounded leg gave way beneath me, and I went head-first into a large rock by the wayside and lost all interest in the proceedings.



Flashman on the March, p.265, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Thursday, 29 March 2012

Trust to luck



      There's a moment, and I've faced it more often than I care to remember, when you're rat-in-the-corner, all your wriggling and lying and imploring have failed, there's nowhere to run, and your only hope is to do your damnedest and trust to luck and every dirty dodge you know.


Flashman and the Tiger, p.148, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.


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Friday, 23 March 2012

Carnal intent, hurrah!



      The discovery that you've been sold a pup is always disconcerting, but your reaction depends on age and experience. In infancy you burst into tears and smash something; in adolescence you may be bewildered (as I was when Lady Geraldine lured me into the long grass on flase pretence and then set about me with carnal intent, hurrah!); in riper manhood common sense usually tells you to bolt, which was my instinct on the Pearl River when I learned that my lorcha was carrying not opium, as I'd supposed, but guns for the Taiping rebels. But at sixty-one your brain works faster than your legs, so you reflect, and as often as not reach the right answer by intuition as well as reason.

Flashman and the Tiger, p.134, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2000.

 
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Monday, 28 November 2011

Little runaway



      “And the little juggins ran away, on the train last night?”
“Greased lightnin’ off a shovel,” says she cheerfully.


Flashman and the Angel of the Lord, p.294, Harper Collins, 1995.


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Tuesday, 19 October 2010

Decamp, squeal, or betray



      It’s a remarkable thing (and I’ve traded on it all my life) that a single redeeming quality in a black sheep wins greater esteem than all the virtues in honest men—especially if the quality is courage. I’m lucky, because while I don’t have it, I look as though I do, and worthy souls like Carson and Wootton never suspect that I’m running around with my bowels squirting, ready to decamp, squeal, or betray as occasion demands.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.206, Pan Books edition, 1983.




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Monday, 13 September 2010

Built like a champion middleweight



      Now, you know what I think of mortal combat. I’ve run from more than I can count, and never lived to regret it, and this lean ten stone of quivering fighting fury, obviously as nimble as a weasel and built like a champion middleweight, was the last man I wanted to try conclusions with—well, I’d been ill.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.157, Pan Books edition, 1983.



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Wednesday, 25 August 2010

Half the art



      If half the art of survival is running, the other half is keeping a straight face. I can’t count the number of times my fate has depended on my response to some unexpected and abominable proposal—like the night Yakub Beg suggested I join a suicidal attempt to scupper some Russian ammunition ships, or Sapten’s jolly notion about swimming naked into a Gothic castle full of Bismark’s thugs, or Brooke’s command to me to lead a charge against a headhunter’s stockade. Jesu, the times we have seen.


Flashman and the Redskins, p.43, Pan Books edition, 1983.

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Monday, 26 July 2010

The Flashman Gambit



…suddenly I saw that there was only one way, and a slender hope at that, but it was that or unspeakable death. The Flashman Gambit – when in doubt, run.


Flashman's Lady, p.271, Pan edition, 1979.



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Tuesday, 6 July 2010

Stretched my legs



There are moments in life which defy description…. The last minute at Balaclava, the moment the Welsh broke at Little Hand Rock and the Zulus came bounding over our position, the breaching of Piper’s fort gate, the neck-or-nothing race for Reno’s Bluff with the Sioux braves running among the shattered rabble of Custer’s Seventh – I’ve stretched my legs in all of those, knowing I was going to die, and being damned noisy at the prospect.



Flashman's Lady, p.185, Pan edition, 1979.

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Wednesday, 2 June 2010

Run

That’s what you young chaps have got to remember – when you run, run, full speed, with never a thought for anything else; don’t look or listen or dither even for an instant; let terror have his way, for he’s the best friend you’ve got.



Flashman's Lady, p.103, Pan edition, 1979.



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Friday, 20 February 2009

The noble art of survival



It was touch and go at this point whether I launched myself head first through the open window or not; for a moment it seemed that the wiser course might well be headlong flight. But then I steadied. I cannot impress too strongly on young fellows that the whole secret of the noble art of survival, for a single man, lies in knowing exactly when to make your break for safety.



Flash For Freedom!, p.132-33, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1980.




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Tuesday, 6 January 2009

A leader you can trust



   ‘Turn back, sir! We can’t leave Kirk behind!’
   ‘Can’t we by God?’ growls Spring. ‘You just watch me, mister. If the bastard can’t run, that’s his look-out!’
    Spoken like a man, captain, thinks I; give me a leader you can trust any day. and even Comber, his face contorted with pain , could see it was no go; they were swarming on the bank, and had Kirk spreadeagled; we could see them wrenching his clothes off, squealing with laughter, while close by a couple of them hade even started kindling a fire. They were smart housewifely lasses those, all right.



Flash For Freedom!, p.84, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1980.




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Saturday, 27 September 2008

The training of years



For a moment I thought I’d killed him, but I didn’t wait about to see. The training of years asserted itself, and I turned and bolted headlong down the path, with no thought but to put as much distance as I could between me and the scene of possible danger.



Royal Flash, p.178, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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