Quotes about mob

To be a member of such a crowd ... is not much to be far removed from solitude the freedom of everyone is assured by the freedom to which everyone else lays claim.

I didn’t marry the mob I was born into it.

I’m going to make you feel so good,” I swore to her, “that you’re going to not just scream my name, but forget yours.

In Astrology, the moon, among its other meanings, has that of "the common people," who submit (they know not why) to any independent will that can express itself with sufficient energy. The people who guillotined the mild Louis XVI died gladly for Napoleon. The impossibility of an actual democracy is due to this fact of mob-psychology. As soon as you group men, they lose their personalities. A parliament of the wisest and strongest men in the nation is liable to behave like a set of schoolboys,

I swear to God . . .”“God doesn’t come to this part of the house, so swear to me.” -Liam C

Kate faced the crowd. They were just eyes and teeth to her, just spit and voices. It was a moment, even, before they became people: a man with one blind eye, another whose neck was thick with lumps and weeping wounds of scrofula. The poorest of the market.At Kate's feet, Drina. Her scarf and shirt were torn open.

You are hard at work madam ," said the man near her.Yes," Answered Madam Defarge ; " I have a good deal to do."What do you make, Madam ?"Many things."For instance ---"For instance," returned Madam Defarge , composedly ,Shrouds."The man moved a little further away, as soon as he could, feeling it mightily close and oppressive .

. . . you worked for Harry King, they said, because a broken leg was bad for business, and Harry King was all about business.

I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks- cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up.He called it his second smile.

When you need to borrow money the Mob seems like a better deal I think. 'You don't pay me back I break both yer legs.' Is that all? You won't take my house or wreck my credit rating? Fine where do I sign. Legs? Fine. You don't even have to sign anything.

If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you; but if you really make them think, they'll hate you.

Remember, crowd doesn't care about common sense.

Anyone who is ignorant, even a lord and prince, can and should be counted as one of the mob.

A group experience takes place on a lower level of consciousness than the experience of an individual. This is due to the fact that, when many people gather together to share one common emotion, the total psyche emerging from the group is below the level of the individual psyche. If it is a very large group, the collective psyche will be more like the psyche of an animal, which is the reason why the ethical attitude of large organizations is always doubtful. The psychology of a large crowd inevi

All their lives they had slaved at some kind of dull, heavy labor, behind desks and counters, in the fields and at tedious machines of all sorts, saving their pennies and dreaming of the leisure that would be theirs when they had enough. Finally that day came. They could draw a weekly income of ten or fifteen dollars. Where else should they go but California, the land of sunshine and oranges? Once there, they discover that sunshine isn’t enough. They get tired of oranges, even of avocado pears a

If the Mob was after you, the last thing you felt was alive. If the Mob was after you, it was only a matter of time before you were as dead as a doorknob. But standing outside in the middle of winter, with the world in a coma, she felt alive.

Darling!” Alessandro exclaimed with a cold sneer as a police guard led him into a holding cell. “What are you doing here? Did you come to tell me that the crazy fog has lifted and you’re ready to resume your place by my side?” “Not in this lifetime. That nut house is not my home, and you really are crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you.” Alessandro’s eyes flickered dangerously. “Careful, sweetheart. You are still my wife. Let’s not forget that, eh?” Bree shook her head. “You are unbelie

Bree blinked her tears back and shook her head. “Wow. Then I guess you really are your father’s son, huh?” “You have no idea,” Alessandro snapped before leaving. Part of her wanted to run after him but a stronger part of her knew he wouldn’t listen to anything she had to say while the red haze was still burning inside of him. He wanted a fight. She’d give him one

What I want you to understand is that when I heard your words, it was as if every single second we had spent together up to that point was a lie. Every word, every touch, every kiss. You were looking at me, but you wanted him. I was this…thing to be endured to keep your family safe. You would allow me to touch you, to make love to you all the while wishing for Colin. I thought all that passion we had between us was a complete figment of my imagination and it was a bitter pill to swallow. I hated

Bree grit her teeth and lunged for him but Brian held her back and Will spoke up instead. “You go away!” Will cried back angrily. “I know you did sumting dat made my mommy mad at my daddy. Is you fault!” “I suggest you put a muzzle on your brat and get back in the living room,” Bernardo ordered. “Careful, Father. This is none of your concern,” Alessandro said. “Are you kidding me?” Bree asked. “Of course this is his concern because he’s the only one you give a damn about. You’ll do anything for

Hello, darling,” Alessandro smiled at her. Oh, that smile. Bree wanted to close her eyes, press her hands against her eyes and keep them shut forever so she wouldn’t see that smile. She must have had the question on her face, the knowledge on her face because as she looked at him now, something flickered in his eyes. Guilt. Oh God. “Mommy, look. I make good bouncies. See?” Will said, dribbling the ball. “I gonna be a basset ball player when I gwoed up.” The little boy’s voice sounded far away as

Will, was not as taken with the photo of the new baby as the grown ups around him. “It look like Mr. Potato Head.” “I’m sure your baby sister will appreciate that,” Alessandro said with a wry grin. “A girl? It’s a girl?” Will asked with a grimace. “That’s right,” Bree announced as Vanessa and Brian congratulated them. “I can play wif Gianni but what we gonna do wif a girl?” he asked, handing the picture back to them. “Nope, send it backand get another boy dis time.

It was while he was fixing the footage Max had given him that the doubts about the disc Bernardo had played for him began toplague him with ever growing strength. Alessandro couldn’t contemplate his father doing something so cruel but…Bernardo would certainly know how. Hell, Bernardo had taught him how to fiddle with electronics when he was still a teenager. And he wanted Alessandro under his control, under his roof. Knowing that Alessandro was trying to keep his family together and that entaile

A loud clang of what sounded like a tray hitting the marble kitchen floor made Bree jump and Gianni go wide eyed with apparent terror. He covered his ears and shook his head. “Bang! Bang! Bang!” He fell over and covered his head. Bree rushed over to him as he began shrieking fearfully. “Maaammaaaaaa!” “Is okay, Gianni. Just a ting falled down,” Will said patting Gianni’s back but Bree noticed her little boy’s hand was shaking. “It’s okay, sweetie. Mommy’s here. That’s okay,” she crouched down an

Yeah, well, he’s having a hard time dealing, you know?” Bree asked uneasily. “That’s understandable. How are you coping?” he asked, reaching out and touching her arm. Gianni shifted in her arms and looked down at Colin’s hand. “It’s taking some getting used to. Let’s just say it’s a bit of a relief to take a break for a little while. I’m more worried about the kids though and this is affecting them so I’m hoping to get in to see Dr. Graham. She was a big help to Will a while back.” “Oh, yeah. I

Colin. Just the name made Alessandro’s gut burn. He knew the man wanted his wife, even if Brianna was too blind to see it. The moron had been cuckolded by the paragon of supposed virtue, his wife Carrie and now he had finally opened his eyes and seen what Alessandro had known all along. Brianna put every other woman in New York to shame. No woman could come near her beauty, her passion, her fire. Colin had tossed her aside for the angelic Carrie and now he was changing his mind. Oh no you don’t,

He grinned at her. “Well, then I have a bit of a confession to make. Colin said some things to me and the sound of his voice irritated me so I had one of those clowns with the big red noses in the paediatric wing turn him into a balloon animal. A giraffe I’m afraid. Sad fate it was,” Alessandro joked with no sign of remorse at all.

Not…” Bree struggled for the right words. “All my life, I’ve just wanted someone to put me first. I thought Alessandro was that man. But even after everything Bernardo has done, I mean, Arturo wouldn’t have ever shot Alessandro if Bernardo hadn’t raised him to be a monster, even knowing that, Alessandro refuses to cut his ties with his father. So…yeah, I guess I do blame Alessandro for getting shot. God, that sounds so horrible.” Bree covered her face with her hands again.

The pain of it was crippling him. He couldn’t breathe. Be a man! Be a Dardano. Alessandro felt the protective wall shoot up around his heart in one quick instant. Dardanos weren’t weak and stupid like he had been. Dardanos didn’t let their emotions blind them. Love was for fools. Love made men stupid. But oh, she would never make him stupid again. Oh, how Alessandro would make his darling wife pay.

You will never have to worry about safety. Being a Dardano will buy you all the security you’ll ever need.” Bree shook her head and threw her hands up. “Being a Dardano will put the bulls eye on my back, you asshole,” “Really, darling, once you become Mrs. Dardano, we’re going to have to work on cleaning up that saucy mouth of yours. At least in public,” Alessandro purred, tapping her nose. Bree saw red. But she smiled at him. She took the plate from him and set it down on the vanity table. Then

His eyes widened. “Pain? Darling, you haven’t yet experienced the pain I can inflict when I’ve been played for a fool. I’m in awe at your gall to try and fool me.” Bree went still as panic froze her. Oh, God. No. “Ah, the light bulb finally goes off,” he purred against her face; his voice low and cold. Even knowing who he was, and the family he came from, Bree could say that deep inside, she’d never felt any real fear of him. She did now. He knew. The look on his face told her he knew that she h

Alessandro shrugged and pushed the blade in, dragging it down the man’s skin, making him cry out. He struck him again with his fist, blood spurting onto Alessandro as well. “Did Arturo tell you that the mother of my child was in that limo? She’s carrying my baby inside of her, and that her son was in the limo too? I’m sure he did. I’m sure he left explicit instructions as to who exactly you were supposed to dispose of, didn’t he?” “He’ll kill me. I swear, he’ll kill me,” the man cried, tears mix

Alessandro gathered her into his arms and flipped her over so that she was on top of him, her blonde hair falling over him like a gold curtain. The strands tickled his face as she righted herself over him. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as he pushed up inside of her, and Alessandro reached up, bringing her mouth down, wanting to taste that swollen lip. Her breath wafted over his face, and he grabbed her hips, pulling her down as he pushed up deeper, wanting to fill her to her very so

Father, perhaps you’ve forgotten the fact that when my child was conceived, neither Bree nor I knew who the other person was.” “Ai, ai, ai… Alessandro, open your mind, please! It was fate, my boy.” “Oh, good God, here we go again,” Arturo threw his hands up. “Don’t you have a puppy to go kick?” Alessandro asked, his brother’s voice grating on his already stretched nerves.

Bree turned to him and gave him an uneasy nod. She had no idea if they were gonna make things better or worse, but she had to know for herself what Francesca had gone through, where she lived and why she made the decisions she had. If she could find out more about the ill-fated romance between Francesca and Adriano, maybe she and Alessandro could avoid a similar, miserable ending.

I like that,” Bree admitted. “It’s like…it’s never too late to change.” Her eyes met his, and she hoped he understood that she meant it for him as well as for herself. She wanted Alessandro to give in to the good she knew was in him and leave the Dardano family behind. “I forgot about that. I feel rather ashamed of it now. Because of the things I’ve done. Then I was looking at this tiny creature here, and you’re going to think I’m mad but…every time I look at him, he looks different to me. He’s

Bree shot to her feet and glared at him. “Look all you want, Brianna. That was the deal, remember? Until Arturo is found, I’m not leaving you alone.” Alessandro stared down at her with immovable stubbornness. “How am I gonna explain you to my grandfather? And what if the rest of my family is there?” “Hello O’Reiley family, you remember Alessandro, the father of my child, the man that I love, the light of my life, ma raison d'être…” “Are you done?” Bree asked cocking an eyebrow. “Depends, are you

Bree rubbed her belly. Figured; Alessandro wasn’t one to live in quiet but strained tension. She stared up at the fabric of the canopy and then squeezed her eyes shut. “Alessandro, considering that the outside world has the sterile hospital rooms, not to mention the epidurals, yeah. For goodness sake, Alessandro. You know we can’t stay here forever. I’m entering my eighth month here.” “I must say, I’m surprised you’re so anxious to leave.” “Why?” Bree asked, turning to look at his strong profile

Mommy, how come Dona Duck don have no pants?” Will sat on the couch eating cookies. Bree looked up. Then she glanced at the Donald Duck cartoon on the TV. “He have top but he no have bottoms,” “Good point,” she said. And yet the duck always wore a towel after he showered. “Dat’s odd,” Will remarked. He leaned over his plate and began to split his cookies into two piles. “And where his pee pee go? He a boy right, mommy? But he don’ have no pee pee. How he go to bafroom?

I understand Mrs. Donovan is a free woman, Mr. Dardano. It’s all for a good cause after all, isn’t it?” “Fifty thousand dollars,” Alessandro countered, deadly calm though inside he was fairly trembling with rage. “One hundred thousand dollars,” Hadley countered, getting to his feet, appearing to enjoy the spectacle of all eyes being on the two of them now. Alessandro stood, his fists clenched tight at his sides. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Bree was staring at them both, her mouth o

Okay, someone’s been smoking the wacky tobacky. And keep your hands to yourself!” She smacked at his roving fingers, fighting the shivers following his touch. "I agreed to let you accompany me because, well...maybe you're right. We should try and put the animosity between our families-stop that!" She gripped his fingers and tried to twist them, but he easily pulled out of her grip. Alessandro laughed. “Darling, I haven’t laughed in ages like I do when I’m with you. I propose a clean slate, eh?”

He took a step back and stared down at her, and she watched the cold mask slowly slip back over his face. “So…that’s it? You just decide I’m not good enough to be with and-“ “Oh, Alessandro no! You know that’s not-“ “Well, let me tell you something, if you think you’re going to keep me away from my baby-“ “No,” Bree promised. “You can see him anytime you want…at my apartment.” He laughed bitterly and sniffled. “You know something ironic, Brianna? You’re probably the only woman who could have tur

His scowl deepened. “If he wanted to hurt Will, he could have easily come here when I was at work, but no, he respected your feelings, and he allowed us to come together in our own time.” “As opposed to what? Dragging me up by my hair to the altar?” Bree asked. “Well that was his suggestion. I suggested a more diplomatic approach.

Last night, Bree had been taken. Thoroughly, utterly taken. Gently or roughly, it didn’t matter. This man had reached into the darkest part of her mind, had brought out and laid bare the desires she admitted to no one but herself in her most secret, quiet moments. Her hunger had been allowed to run free. There’d been no guilt, no remorse. Nothing was ‘wrong’. And God, the feeling of freedom was damned addictive. What did that say about her? How could she love Michael, yet give a part of her she’

He lowered his head and shook it from side to side, giving her a rueful smile. “I find it so ironic that someone I think of as sometimes so brave to the point of stupidity could be so terrified of her own happiness,” Bree felt the shot hit home, and she couldn’t look at him. She ran her finger along the marble topped of the island. “That’s ridiculous. Who in their right mind is afraid of being happy?” “Someone who has lost too much,” he moved slowly towards her in gentle careful strides as if he

She realized he wasn’t listening to music and gave him a curious look of amusement as she picked up the cover to an audio book. ‘What To Expect When You’re Expecting.’ God forgive me, I love this man. “Thought I should be informed, you know?” Alessandro explained sheepishly. Bree tried to tear her gaze away from his gleaming chest. “Plus all the lactating and dilating and placenta talk does wonders to crush any man’s libido.

Bree crossed her arms over her protruding belly. “I’m fine. No one has shot at me in the last twenty four hours, and my family is talking to me again. Things are looking up.” He grimaced at the mention of her family. “How fortunate for you.” Bree narrowed her eyes at him, picking up on the derogatory tone. “Well, you should know all about the importance of family. You’d do anything for yours, right? Bernardo says jump, you ask ‘how high?’ “ Alessandro felt a sick twist of guilt in his chest, “We

Lies. All lies. Bree was shaking so hard she bit her tongue, but she didn’t even feel the blood in her mouth. Kill her husband and seduce the widow. She thought she’d never felt as angry as when Michael died, but this, oh God, her entire body was a live wire of rage. She was so furious, she was almost numb. So numb that she didn’t even feel herself reaching for the gun she had pulled out of the glove compartment and pocketed. So numb that she didn’t feel herself lift the gun and aim. So numb tha

We have nothing!” Bree reached out and slapped him with all her might. He couldn’t know the baby she carried was his. Not ever. Alessandro’s dark eyes flashed angrily at her for a split second, making Bree’s insides tense in anticipation of his rage, but then he smiled at her, his hand going to her thigh. “Well, I was hoping we’d get to know each other a little better before delving into S & M, but I’m game if you are, sunshine.” “I want you to get out,” “And I want you naked screaming my name,

Alessandro! Will!!” He could hear Brianna’s voice a few seconds before his head came up through to the next floor. Stubborn, bloody woman! he cursed. “Oh God, Will!” Bree screamed. “What happened?” She rushed towards them, coughing as she grabbed for her son. He shifted his weight to hand him over to her, but the movement sent another bolt of screaming pain from his ankle up to his leg and Alessandro lost his footing, falling back into the basement. Alessandro!” Bree screamed, and then he heard

That’s our clue. I know where he is now.” Alessandro said, pulling her away from the dead fish. “A dead fish means…what? The docks?” Bree asked. Alessandro gave her a small smile. “You’re as smart as you are exquisite, my darling.” “I’m sorry. A crazy man has my son. Could we get a move on now?” Bree pushed him towards the door. “Forgive me, darling. Old habits.” Bree rolled her eyes, but she was grateful for the brief, light moment. It allowed her to regroup and focus, to lift her head from the

My, my, and you accuse the Dardanos of trying to run the world. As you so succinctly put it, you have no desire to be a part of my life, which means you have no say in where I choose to live, sunshine. I, on the other hand, made no such declaration.” “God, I hate you,” Bree seethed. Alessandro smiled and tapped the end of her nose playfully, resisting the urge to tear her thick coat off of her and take her right against the wall. “You keep telling yourself that, love. We both know better.

He’s lying to me, Bree thought. I don’t know how I know, but I do. And really, wasn’t it better if she didn’t know for sure? Bree moved closer to him and pressed her mouth to his, inhaling the strong, musky scent that seemed to be his alone. Like a mix of spiced wine, dark chocolate and warm leather. Bree eased her tongue in and ran it across his teeth as his fingers moved up her spine to cup her head and bring her closer.

They stared at each other, and Alessandro seriously considered turning away from his father’s wishes and just taking this woman and running off somewhere with her. He could imagine being happy with her. He felt free, easy. The feeling was heady. But dangerously so. He could never just toss aside his father’s demands that way, even if he wanted to. There would be too much at stake.

She moved to get up, but the man held her down as her car exploded next. Bree lifted her head and looked back at the wall of fire behind them. “Well. We’re well and truly screwed now.

Mmmmmnobaconeggsgottagostore…” She slowly ran her hand down his forearm and gave him a sleepy smile as she sat up. Her eyes remained closed as she rested her hand on his shoulder and before he could realize her intention or even remember his manners and stop her, her mouth was on his in a kiss that was so soft and sweet Alessandro could do nothing but fall into it with her.

I know. You’re a male escort, and you were on your way to your latest…what are female clients called? Not Johns…Jean’s?” He choked on his cracker, and Bree reached over and patted his back until his coughing fit passed. “Afraid not, darling.” He wheezed. “Male stripper?” He snorted. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted by that.” “Some kind of business tycoon, right?” Bree asked. “A pretty Donald Trump?” “Pretty? Oh dear.” Bree raised her hands. “Handsome. Handsome. Better?

Emphasizing the crowd means de-emphasizing individual humans in the design of society, and when you ask people not to be people, they revert to bad, mob-like behaviors.

Crime was my career. I considered myself a craftsman | a true professional. Everybody has a craft they practice. Clean or dirty, safe or dangerous, we all have a viable skill and a part to play in the enigma that comprises our world. A professional is a person who earns moneys for practicing their craft. Having labored many years and becoming experienced in a particular skill, you learn the gradations and eventually reach the title of master.

The mob not only grabs hold of art without being entitled to do so, but it also enters the artist. It takes up residence inside the artist and smashes a few holes in the wall, windows to the outer world: The mob wants to be seen.

The Mob essentially created the term 'stand-up comic'—according to eighty-six-year-old comedian Dick Curtis: 'The Outfit used to manage fighters. A stand-up fighter is a guy that is a puncher. A stand-up guy was a guy who was tough and you could depend on. The Outfit managed fighters and they managed clubs that booked comics, so the term found its way into the lexicon of nightclubs. A guy who just stood there and punched jokes—joke, joke, joke—he was a stand-up comic.

Nicky turned and bolted. He’d only had about a thirty foot head start and a few were closing ground on him quickly. He cursed his hundred-dollar shoes and his vanity. The shoes looked great, but were definitely not made for running, nor was the suit he was wearing. He vowed that if he made it out of there alive, he’d only wear sneakers and track suits for the rest of his days. "Of course, I’ll probably be laughed out of the mob, but I don’t care at this point.

Everyone thought the mob was done after RICO.... And they were. Then the Towers came down. Overnight, the feds shifted three-quarters of their personnel into anti-terrorism and the mob made a comeback. Shit, they even made a fortune overcharging for debris removal from Ground Zero.... 9/11 saved the mafia.

This was a quarrel they did not need | It was one they knew they could never win. Beat us with a bat and we come back with Jiggers | Stick us with a knife and we bring the heaters | Plug one of us, and you'd better murder us all. We were the authentic spectacle, and the fact they left with their lives intact, no bones broken, or a limb missing, was miracle enough.

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.

Fear is the primary tool of the mafiya. It's how they contain their vast criminal enterprise. For the mafiya, fear is the grease in the wheel. Fear is much stronger than love | Fear lasts much longer. Love fades and is replaced by hatred and contempt. Fear lingers and brings forth other emotions such as doubt. Fear encourages procrastination and cowardice. Besides, you always hurt the ones you love. Most are too afraid to hurt the ones they fear.

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.

Wanting to leave communist Russia is all fine and well | Actually leaving the country is where you might run into a few setbacks. Obtaining a visa for a simple vacation outside the soviet block was a long and arduous process. To immigrate to a free society was about as easy as finding whiskey in a church.

The Jewish center on Kings Highway scheduled an interview at the local labor hall downtown for my father to meet one of their counselors in order to asses his skills and capabilities. When my father sat down with the fellow and asked all sorts of questions, his reply was a blank stare. Boris didn't understand a word. He did speak a little English | He knew two words, pipe and chair. So Boris did the smart thing. He kept saying pipe over and over. Whatever question, he simply replied... pipe. The

Religion is the idol of the mob it adores everything it does not understand.

The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.

The mob spirit has grown with the increasing intelligence of the Afro-American.

With the selfies, a photographer has finally found his place in a photograph.

I want you to stop being subhuman and become 'yourself'. 'Yourself,' I say. Not the newspaper you read, not your vicious neighbor's opinion, but 'yourself.' I know, and you don't, what you really are deep down. Deep down, you are what a deer, your God, your poet, or your philosopher is. But you think you're a member of the VFW, your bowling club, or the Ku Klux Klan, and because you think so, you behave as you do. This too was told you long ago, by Heinrich Mann in Germany, by Upton Sinclair and

When a candidate for public office faces the voters he does not face men of sense; he faces a mob of men whose chief distinguishing mark is the fact that they are quite incapable of weighing ideas, or even of comprehending any save the most elemental — men whose whole thinking is done in terms of emotion, and whose dominant emotion is dread of what they cannot understand. So confronted, the candidate must either bark with the pack or be lost... All the odds are on the man who is, intrinsically,

But he could never be a made guy himself because of his tainted blood, some Sunset Park Puerto Rican on his father's side, even though he was raised Italian. Chili didn't care to be made anyway, get into all that bullshit having to do with respect. It was bad enough having to treat these guys like they were your heroes, smile when they made some stupid remark they thought was funny.

This democracy thing, or Demoxie, whatever it is, good god. Under the guise of having every voice heard, you create mob rule, a filterless society where secrets are crimes.

A second red-orange spearhead leaps straight at O'Shaughnessy. The whole world seems to stand still. Then the gun behind it crashes, and there's a cataclysm of pain all over him, and a shock goes through him as if he ran head-on into a stone wall.A voice from the car says blurredly, while the ground rushes up to meet him, 'Finish him up, you guys! I'm getting so I don't trust their looks no more, no matter how stiff they act!' ("Jane Brown's Body")

He's prowling back and forth like a lion with distemper now. There's a shiny streak down one side of his face. "I shouldn't have let her go ahead - I ought to be hung! Something's gone wrong. I can't stand this any more!" he says with a choked sound. "I'm starting now -""But how are you -""Spring for it and fire as I go if they try to stop me." And then as he barges out, the fat lady waddling solicitously after him, "Stay there; take it if she calls - tell her I'm on the way-"He plunges straight

Among men, it seems, historically at any rate, the processes of coordination and disintegration follow each other with great regularity, and the index of the coordination is the measure of the disintegration which follows. There is no mob like a group of well-drilled soldiers when they have thrown off their discipline. And there is no lostness like that which comes to a man when a perfect and certain pattern has dissolved about him. There is no hater like one who has greatly loved.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Francis brought his hand out from under his frock in order to bless the multitude. When the people saw his wound they bellowed madly. The women dashed forward with mantles outstretched to catch the drops; the men thrust in their hands and anointed their faces with blood. The villagers' expressions grew savage, and so did their souls. They longed to be able to tear the Saint limb from limb in order for each of them to claim a mouthful of his flesh, for they wanted

He’s a murdering chud,” Zil was yelling.“What do you want to do? Lynch him?” Astrid demanded.That stopped the flow for a second as kids tried to figure out what “lynch” meant. But Zil quickly recovered.“I saw him do it. He used his powers to kill Harry.”“I was trying to stop you from smashing my head in!” Hunter shouted.“You’re a lying mutant freak!”“They think they can do anything they want,” another voice shouted.Astrid said, as calmly as she could while still pitching her voice to be heard, “