My Life had stood - a Loaded Gun -
In Corners - till a Day
The Owner passed - identified -
And carried Me away -

i will live by the gun and die by the gun

Loaded words and loaded friends, loaded guns to our heads.

I had the whole road to myself, for no one was yet stirring, and I walked on, with a slouching, dogged gait. The gray shooting-jacket was on my back, and from the end of my brother’s rifle hung a small bundle of my clothes. My fingers worked moodily at the stock and trigger, and I thought that this indeed was the way to begin life, with a gun in your hand!

My Life had stood — a Loaded Gun —
In Corners — till a Day
The Owner passed — identified —
And carried Me away — And now We roam in Sovereign Woods —
And now We hunt the Doe —
And every time I speak for Him —
The Mountains straight reply —

A book is a loaded gun.

A gun in the hand is worth a corpse in the Promised Land.

My life had stood — a Loaded Gun — In Corners — till a Day
The Owner passed — identified — And carried Me away — And now We roam in Sovereign Woods — And now We hunt the Doe — And every time I speak for Him — The Mountains straight reply — And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the Valley glow — It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through — And when at Night — Our good Day done — I guard My Master's Head — 'Tis better than the Eider-Duck's
Deep Pillow — to have shared — To foe of His — I'm deadly foe — None stir the second time — On whom I lay a Yellow Eye — Or an emphatic Thumb — Though I than He — may longer live
He longer must — than I — For I have but the power to kill,
Without — the power to die —

A book is a loaded gun in the house next door.

... I had a pistol every bit as lethal tucked in the rear of my belt, next to my skin, underneath my shirttails. I'd been carrying it [for] so many days that I had almost forgotten it was there. This was the kind of world we now lived in.

Words are loaded pistols.

I was grabbed, beaten, Tased, all while being called a traitor to my country, I was at risk of being stripped of and killed with my own firearm, as I heard chants of, ‘Kill him with his own gun.’

One of my legs is shot off! But leave me one or two guns loaded — I am going to have a last shot. Be quick and go!

“Jim?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“What’s this about leaving your gun where the baby could reach it?”
Jim flushed. “It wasn’t charged, Dad.”
“If all the people who had been killed with unloaded guns were laid end to end it would make quite a line up. You are proud of being a licensed gun wearer, aren’t you?
“Uh, yes, sir.”
“And I’m proud to have you be one. It means you are a responsible, trusted adult. But when I sponsored you before the Council and stood up with you when you took your oath, I guaranteed that you would obey the regulations and follow the code, wholeheartedly and all the time—not just most of the time. Understand me?”
“Yes, sir. I think I do.”