"Now Go Out and Fight 'Em."

The One Thing That Will Not Shatter His Nerves.

Dug out of the Sand.

Belted out of Him.

Out of the Murk.

Another Guardian Angel Appears.

Eventually it Exploded in His Hands.

Not Arguing With Him.

In a Brooklyn Back Yard.

A Blow - Up Coming.

Clarifying His Position.

"Getting His Cut."

A Drive on the Rats.

Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight.

The Intelligent Voter - His Marks.

Gangster Methods Won't Solve Crimes.

Trotting Out the Old Parrot.

Though I Speak with the Tongues of Men and of Angels, but Have Not Charity, I Have Become Sounding Brass or a Clanging Cymbal.

Not for Them!

So You Don't Think a Clean - Up was Necessary, Eh?