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Gangster Quotes

Browse 25 quotes about Gangster.

Gangster Quotes

“Quand les premiers tirs retentirent, la tête d’un gars explosa à un mètre de mon visage. Mon corps se pétrifia : je n’étais plus qu’une sculpture attendant qu’on la vandalise. Roy me projeta au sol avant de me gifler : — Réveille-toi, gamin ! Les sans-visage tombaient comme des mouches. Des membres survolaient mon corps allongé, contrastant avec le ciel estival qui semblait se moquer de l’événement.”

CrimeRedemptionProhibitionGangsterFiction Historical
Book:A PASTOR'S STORY (Ce qu'il reste)
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“The way the kids of immigrants heard about America, you would think it was not down the stairs and out the door but still across the ocean, a distant place where everything is promised and, for hard work, everything is given. From the day he left his parents' house, Abe [Reles] had to know his father was right, that America promises everything, but he also had to know his father was wrong--America gives nothing. Those things that are promised, they cannot be worked for but must be taken, conned away with good looks, obsequiousness, mimicry; or traded for with bit of your soul or the morals of the stories your parents told; or tricked away with lies; or wrested away with brute force.”

ImmigrationAmerican DreamGangster
Book:Tough Jews: Fathers, Sons, and Gangster Dreams
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“He almost broke the window of the front door coming in about two minutes later, as if he was running from Gran Via and the Urgell corner. Sweating, soaked, with two bags; a luggage in his hand and a bigger side bag across his chest. As he threw his luggage to the ground and jumped up the stairs, trying to run up to me, he slipped on the dangerous, tiled, and sharp steps, falling and rolling back into the corner in a state of misery. He tried to get up again, but he fell back down to the bottom of the stairs. The side bag's strap slipped off his shoulder and jammed his legs as he jumped up again and tried to run up to me once more. In his desperation, he fell back down to the bottom of the stairs when his foot got caught in the side bag again, until he finally removed it screaming like a jackal and tried again for the fourth time. I was just standing at the top of the stairs, trying to contain my amazement and amusement at the same time, wondering what was wrong with this bizarre, crazy-crazy guy. It was like another Benny Hill episode, or a Mr Bean scene. But he sure did get hurt too. It was amazing. Finally he managed to scramble and run up the stairs, madly yelling at me. The wireless office phone was in my hand and we had just spoken a minute ago or two. He must have been heading towards Gran Via towards the airport, which I highly doubted as he was hiding in Europe; he was probably going to a bus station around Plaza Espanya. I doubt he was taking the train in Spain, trying to hide in Europe. Once he managed to get up and as I stood there in disbelief, almost laughing at him, with my hands in the air as if I didn’t know what was going on, he ripped the office phone from my hand and threw it to the ground, breaking it into many pieces upstairs.”

IsraelAdamMarijuanaSpainMafiaCocainePsychopathBarcelonaGangster
Book:BARCELONA MARIJUANA MAFIA
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“Behind the facade of elected government are a bunch of corporate controlled gangsters running the country.”

CountryRunningBunchCorporateCorporationsUsaControlGangstersGovernment QuotesStateBehind The ScenesFacadeRunCorporate CultureGovernment CorruptionGovernment ProgramsGovernment SpendingGovernmentsGovernment AbuseElected OfficialsGovernment RegulationBehindCorporate AmericaCorporate WorldCorporate GreedControllingGovernment Cover UpsCorporationGovernment PropagandaCorporate QuotesCorporate LifeGangsterCorporate EthicsElectedCorporate InfluenceCorporate ProfitBehind The Curtain
Author:Steven Magee
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“Another deputy threw down a clear plastic trash bag with my orange jumpsuit. I reached for the bag and was knocked down to the floor with an overhead right, another shove, and I was inside the 4X6 room. The heavy white door was already closing behind me. The walls here were made of hard white rubber. There was a small shower head towards the back of the tiny cell and a grated hole in the middle of the floor | I assumed that the hold would be my toilet. The cell reeked of anguish.”

New York CityThugNycRussianMobMobsterThugsGangsterThuglifeCrimimal
Author:Gary "Gunz" Govich
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“She had transferred to La Brea High School less than six months ago, and the guys there never did more than smile or ask her to dance. She could feel them looking at her when she walked down the hallways, but when she caught their glances, they looked away. Perhaps they saw the gangster in her eyes or in the curl of her lips. Veto had said she was like a jaguar; her show of teeth was a warning, not a smile. She was probably scaring the guys away without even knowing it.”

GangsterJimena CastilloJaguar
Book:Night Shade
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“For those of you that truly believe there's no such thing as the mafiya, I would be more than happy to sell you your own fast lane on the Belt Parkway, you know, so you can avoid the rush hour commute. The mafiya is real as a heart attack and, contrary to popular consensus, has been steadily growing in power since its inception in the 1920s. Italian organized crime just doesn't operate out in the open anymore, former mayor Rudy made sure of that.”

New York CityNycRussianMobThug LifeMobstersGangster
Book:Career Criminal: My Life in the Russian Mob Until the Day I Died
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“She wished Jimena were here. Normally, they were inseparable, but this evening Jimena had to do community service at Children's Hospital. She worked with children undergoing rehabilitation for gunshot wounds. She read to them, played checkers, and showed them how to macramé. Jimena had been in a gangland sentenced twice to a Youth Authority Camp for jacking cars. She would be there now, if a lenient judge hadn't sentenced her to do commission service work instead. Jimena had been one badass homegirl before she understood her destiny.”

Community ServiceGangsterJimena Castillo
Book:Into the Cold Fire
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“Jimena sensed their fear. That brought a smile to her face. Her reputation was still so big that even tough enimigas wouldn't face her down. She strutted past them, her heels snapping loudly on the sidewalk. She enjoyed the feel of their admiring eyes, their sideways glances and the wonder she saw on their faces. Jimena wasn't choloed out in khakis, a tight T, and long, boyfriend-borrowed Pendletons. She wore a slinky dress and ankle-breaking high-heels. The rain made the dress cling to her body, so they knew she wasn't strapping. No gun. Still, they were afraid to confront her. This time she stopped for the red light, pausing to let the chicas know she didn't fear them. It felt good to be the toughest chola en el condado de Los Angeles. She was still down for Ninth Street, her old gang, but at age fifteen, already a veterana. A leyenda, her homegirls told her with pride. Jimena had been a real badass before she understood her destiny. She glanced at the scars and tattoos on her hand. What would the klika-girls do if they knew her true identity?”

ReputationHispanicBoldConfidence And AttitudeGangsterJimena CastilloLike A BossHomegirl
Book:Night Shade
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“...even if all they did was look at each other, it rattled her entire being because there was no thought or person or barrier between them. Not a single one. They were both thoroughly absorbed in every moment they spent together. It was terrifying. Like being swept away by a powerful wind, where your body rendered all its control to another force that could ignite as well as destroy you.”

RomanceCrimeGangsterCrime Romance NovelGangster Love Story
Book:The Whyte Divide
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