Showing posts with label instinct. Show all posts
Showing posts with label instinct. Show all posts

Thursday, 20 September 2012

A Flashy brag



. . . now that Napier was asking if there was anything more he could do for me, I did what I’d done so often, and put on a Flashy brag, the bravado of despair, I guess it is, the fraudsters instinct for playing out the charade.
     “I’d be obliged for a revolver and fifty rounds, sir. Oh, and a box of cheroots, if you have one to spare.”


Flashman on the March, pp.64-5, Harper Collins, paperback edition 2005.


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Thursday, 9 June 2011

Scout first



Coward’s instinct if you like, but if I’m still here and in good health, bar my creaky kidneys and a tendency to wind, it’s because I shy at motes, never mind beams — and I don’t walk straight in where I can scout first.

Flashman and the Mountain of Light, p.172, Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.



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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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Thursday, 29 October 2009

Seeking sorrow and raving heroically



The terrible thing was that I remembered the battle very clearly, and my own incredible behaviour – I knew I’d gone bawling about like a Viking in drink, seeking sorrow and raving heroically in murderous rage, but I couldn’t for the life of me understand why. It had been utterly against nature, instinct and judgement – and I knew it hadn’t been booze, because I hadn’t had any, and anyway the liquor hadn’t been distilled that could make me oblivious of self-preservation. It appalled me, for what security does a right-thinking coward have, if he loses his sense of panic?



Flashman at the Charge, pp.281-2, Pan edition, 5th printing, 1979.




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Wednesday, 5 November 2008

When in danger



Possibly it was just my natural instinct: when in danger, get behind a woman’s skirt.



Royal Flash, p.262, Pan edition, 8th printing, 1978.




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