Shots Quotes

“Simply giving something ‘a shot’ is not giving something our ‘best,’ for our best is made up of as many ‘shots’ as it takes in order to be our best.”

“I need another drink!” I said as a second attempt to change the subject. “Shots!” America yelled. Shepley rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah. That’s what you need, another shot.”

“To take this one shot at life and live it with God is to take this one shot and have it reverberate across and around my world as if it were a million shots and more.”

“We could’ve been a still photo, the kind from a booth at the mall where two dollars went in and a strip of three shots came out. Our image wasn’t the first shot, the one that was always frantic and unfocused. It wasn’t the second shot either--laughing and silly. No, this was the final image--the serious shot--where the couple realized they wanted a good picture to remember the moment by and couldn’t afford to screw the last one up.”

“I order six shots.I drink the first shot with lemon and salt and talk about Isha for 120 seconds.I drink the second shot with lemon and salt and talk about Isha and our love for 90 seconds.I drink the third shot with lemon and talk about future plans with wedding for 60 seconds.I drink the fourth and blabber for 30 seconds.I drink the fifth, I speak in a language no one can understand for ten seconds or less. I fall down.When I open my eyes, I see Diwa helping me sit in the car and put on the seat belt. I am knocked out.”

“Big shots are only little shots who keep shooting.”

“Big shots are only little shots who keep shooting.”

“Big shots are only little shots who keep shooting.”

“Bradley is one of the few basketball players who have ever been appreciatively cheered by a disinterested away-from-home crowd while warming up. This curious event occurred last March, just before Princeton eliminated the Virginia Military Institute, the year's Southern Conference champion, from the NCAA championships. The game was played in Philadelphia and was the last of a tripleheader. The people there were worn out, because most of them were emotionally committed to either Villanova or Temple-two local teams that had just been involved in enervating battles with Providence and Connecticut, respectively, scrambling for a chance at the rest of the country. A group of Princeton players shooting basketballs miscellaneously in preparation for still another game hardly promised to be a high point of the evening, but Bradley, whose routine in the warmup time is a gradual crescendo of activity, is more interesting to watch before a game than most players are in play. In Philadelphia that night, what he did was, for him, anything but unusual. As he does before all games, he began by shooting set shots close to the basket, gradually moving back until he was shooting long sets from 20 feet out, and nearly all of them dropped into the net with an almost mechanical rhythm of accuracy. Then he began a series of expandingly difficult jump shots, and one jumper after another went cleanly through the basket with so few exceptions that the crowd began to murmur. Then he started to perform whirling reverse moves before another cadence of almost steadily accurate jump shots, and the murmur increased. Then he began to sweep hook shots into the air. He moved in a semicircle around the court. First with his right hand, then with his left, he tried seven of these long, graceful shots-the most difficult ones in the orthodoxy of basketball-and ambidextrously made them all. The game had not even begun, but the presumably unimpressible Philadelphians were applauding like an audience at an opera.”