"I'm not a man...I'm fifty-five years old, have four human children, six human grandchildren, weigh about one hundred and forty pounds; I eat, sleep, scratch myself and hate lice; but I am not a man.
"...I'm the black sheep of Gotham's flock, the whiskey breath of Stephen Foster, the oldest street in the United States, the tea-water pump. I am the Henry Astor of the Fly Market, Priest of the Parish, Murderer's Alley, the Dead Rabbits. I am exaggerated humor, intense filth. I am an accomplished linguist, can hold my tongue in English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Hungarian, Yiddish. I am the rise of the gangs. I am also a mystery. I am Bowery."...
"You're full of hop," said Lance.
--Sam Fuller 1944
(thanks to Bill!)
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"I am the rise of the gangs. I am also a mystery."
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