Anger

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  I couldn’t. It’s an indelicate thing to have to confess, but the long labor had distended my bladder or hurt my urethra’s muscle tone or blah blah blah. They give me a pee bag and a catheter, but since the gallons of IV fluid they’d pumped into me over more than a day had seeped into my tissues, I stay swollen like a prize pig. People on the ward ask me more than once when I’m due, which shocks me, for without my baby bump, I feel lithe as Miss America, puzzled when my old skinny jeans can’t shimmy over my dimpled knee. The doctor stares at his clipboard, saying, It happens with incompetent labor. Or a doctor’s incompetent delivery, I snap. Mare! Warren says. Why can’t you stick up for me? I burst out. I’m tired and sore, and my abruptly massive boobs have hardened into bricks as the milk floods in. Mare, incompetent’s a medical term, not personal disparagement. Spoken like a man who went home and slept all night, I say, dabbing at my eyes. The doctor predicts it might be a day or two until I can pee, and they’ll keep me till then. He shakes Warren’s hand and leaves the room, and Warren announces—almost in passing—that he’s taken his paternity leave that week. Problem being, when the baby and I come home, I’ll fly solo. All right, I say—what choice do I have, and so besotted am I with the baby, I almost don’t care—I’ll get Mother to come. At the bank of elevators, Warren pushes the button. I sit in my wheelchair with the geriatic pee bag taped to my leg and our squinty son in my arms. The silver door slides open. Hold the elevator, a voice cries out, and from behind us skitters up a couple from our natural childbirth class. Warren moves aside while they get on. The new mom has a paper cone of roses in her lap, and the grandmother holds the baby while the grandfather videotapes the whole thing. Wave goodbye to your first home, Spenser, Grandpa says. The grandmother flaps Spencer’s limp paw. While Warren holds the door for them, I ask him when he’ll be back. Tomorrow about five. The doors begin to close. Wait, I say. Why so late? The elevator door’s black rubber bumper stops midbounce against Warren’s hand. He says, Visiting hours are five to seven. Not for dads, I say. But the silver doors have shut him away. And I know Warren will come religiously from five till seven—never a minute longer. (To be fair to Warren, not yet thirty, he must’ve been shocked, as men often are—and the younger, the more shocked—by the dreamy looks their previously income-generating wives get when staring at some dumb hunks of baby.)

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  ὕβρις [0], 7, gen. ews (Ar. Lys. 425), eos (Id. Thesm. 465, Pl. 1044, Eubul. Navy. 1. 9), Ep. vos. (Commonly referred to the same Root as ὑπέρ, cf. ὑπερήφανος, ὑπερφίαλος ; but there are difficulties in this, v. Curt. p. 528). Wanton violence, arising from the pride of strength or from passion, wantonness, wanton insolence, often in Od., mostly of the suitors, μνηστήρων, τῶν ὕβρις τε Bin τε σιδήρεον οὐρανὸν ie 15. 320.» 17. 565; μνηστῆρες ὑπέρβιον ὕβριν ἔχοντες 1. 368., 4. 321 ; λίην γὰρ ἀτάσθαλον ὕβριν ἔχουσιν 16. 86; ὕβρει εἶξαι τ4. 262., 17.431; θεοὶ... ἀνθρώπων ὕβριν τε καὶ εὐνομίην ἐφορῶντες 17. 487 ; δίκη ὑπὲρ ὕβριος ἴσχει Hes. Op. 215, cf. Archil. 79 ; joined with ὀλιγωρίη, Hdt. τ. 106 ; δυσσεβίας μὲν ὕβρις τέκος Aesch. Eum. 534 ;—acc. to Plato, ὕβρις is ἐπιθυμίας ἀρξάσης ἐν ἡμῖν ἡ ἀρχή, Phaedr. 238 A; hence in the Poets often joined with κόρος (v. κόρος A. fin.) :—as an attribute of actions, dp’ οὐχ ὕβρις τάδ᾽ ; Soph. O. C. 883; ταῦτ᾽ οὐχ ὕβρις ἐστί ; Ar. Nub. 1299, cf. Ran, 21, Pl. 886; ὕβρις τάδ᾽ ἐστί, κρείσσω δαιμόνων εἶναι θέλειν Eur. Hipp. 474 -:---ὕβρει in wantonness or insolence, Soph. El. 881 ; ἐφ᾽ ὕβρει Eur. Or. 1581, Dem. 526. 19, etc.; δι᾿ ὕβριν Id. 527. 26; διὰ τὴν v. Xen. Hell. 2. 2, 10; εἰς ὕβριν Plut. Alcib. 37, ete. 2. esp. of rank lust, lewdness, opp. to σωφροσύνη, Theogn. 379, Xen. 3. of over-fed horses, riotousness, restiveness, Hdt. 1. 189; ὕβρις ὀρθία κνωδάλων Pind. P. 10. 55, cf. N. 1. 75 (v. ὑβρίζω 1). 4. οἴνου ὕβρις its fermentation, cited from Ael. II. = ὕβρισμα, a piece of wanton violence, despiteful treatment, an outrage (though it is , often difficult to separate this concrete sense from the abstract), 1]. 1.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  A pencil in his fist, the captain was writing in what looked like an accounting ledger. Someone brushed against him and he looked up. Lamplight raddled in the Negro’s neck stubble The captain stood, stepped around the table, stepped before the lamp so that all figures were blotted with his shadow. He stepped again. A fisherman yanked her leg aside. The captain, legs apart between her wider legs, stood with the twin catenary of his testicles in silhouette. He kneeled. The catenaries swung. Her crying balked, took a rhythm with his valleying spine, as it arched and straightened, where light spilled back and forth. She made a sound like gagging. The cramping muscles at his scrotal base made Robby gasp. Figures swayed in the lapping light to the boat’s sway. And Robby could not ponder what he watched for disbelief. Knuckling his eyes because his lids were propped so long, he saw another man had mounted the heaving woman, or another. The pressure lower than his belly he could not touch for pain. The gilded figures slipped Grinding the verdigrised sill, his chin and fingers grew sore. He sagged on the hull, eye tearing: A woman struck a black six-year-old in the belly. The child screamed and staggered toward the window while she came on, raging. Robby jerked back as brown buttocks slapped and flattened on the glass. The boy kept shrieking, jerked left, then slipping right, while she did something to him inside. “Hey, boy!” From deck the captain, arms folded on the rail, gazed down the side of the boat. Robby opened his mouth. What wanted to become speech dissolved. The fog drifted on his blunted tongue. A dog barked in the city. “Hey there, boy! What you doing out here tonight? Rumors going out what you got yourself into some trouble,” and laughter followed into the fog. Robby blinked against the chill. Night’s vapors coiled between them to blur the buck. “Some people are saying you messed up one of this town’s more respectable young ladies” Memories confused themselves in Robby’s mind. Something raged in him and would take no name. He stepped back again, trying to speak. He was still shivering. Something coursed through, leaving a burning in his joints, setting a slow rage in his belly. “Come on up here.” Robby stepped on the plank. His boot hit a cross rib and he stopped. Flecks of light sped the water. “You think it’s a good idea for you just to be hanging around like this?” The captain reached under his shirt to scratch. “We’ll be pulling out of here come dawn.” From among the houses came a fit of canine wailing. The captain looked up. Then his eyes returned to Robby “You going to come aboard, boy?” Robby stepped on the boat. “What . . .” and had to back off the word to get voice. “. . . what do you want me to do . . . Captain.” The captain frowned.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  “I don’t think you understand!” The priest stood up. “She was . . . was savagely hurt, mentally as well as physically!” “Well,” Bull said. “If you want me to go out looking for the bastard . . . I will.” The priest began to speak, then shook his head—not in negation, but frustration. “This girl, since the death of her parents, has been like a daughter to me. You once mentioned your family to me. I understand that a man must have his reasons for not living with his chosen spouse, but I know you have daughters; surely you can understand this distraction of my feelings. I have nursed the growth of this girl in mind and body for a year. I merely ask you to consider what you would feel like if your little girls were so abused. You must come search for this creature with me. You . . .” In the dimness, the priest could not decipher the policeman’s expression. After a moment Bull said, “We’ll go looking for him.” He stood up from the bar. “Just a second, Father—I’ll be back.” He jerked up the rifle and strode out the back door. “The stupid bitch ran out of here and got herself messed up by some blame fool drifter after she left,” Bull announced, leaning from the door, a hand on either jamb. “Fool priest wants me to go hunting for the bastard. He’s probably skedaddled by now anyway if he done really shagged on the bitch that bad. I guess I won’t be able to go with you. Your Catherine woman is at the church. Least ways I’ll be able to keep the Father out of your hair while we’re hunting up the poor son of a bitch.” Bull was about to leave when the Captain stopped him with a hand around his wrist. “It wasn’t the drifter.” Bull frowned. “How you know?” “I talked to him this morning on the docks. That boy don’t rape.” Bull gave a cynical expression. Suddenly he turned. His fist hit Sambo’s shoulder. “Nigger, if your two bastards turn out to be at the bottom of this one too . . .” “Hey, Bull . . .” the black fisherman began. “God damn, this is the fourth or fifth time now. Shit! Look, you black bastard, you tell them salt and pepper shakers of yours they owe Bull some work for this one. I got me some little women over in the next town I want them to rough up for me. A couple of little girls, their old lady, and this bitch waitress. I been wettin’ my pants long enough dreamin’ about it. And, shit, nigger, tell ’em to watch out!” “Christ, Bull! All them women is a lot of work!”

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  They growled and groaned toward ending. After the first time Nig came, Dove went outside the alley and sat down on the curb. Nig always had it three or four times, anyway. Dove sat looking at the dark face of the church. The shadowed carvings disappeared into the black on black silhouette as he looked up the twin spires. He scratched between his toes. He grinned at the sounds from the darkness behind. A line of light cut the facade. The door opened and a tall man stepped out on the church porch. He came down two steps, looked left, right. He saw Dove, motioned. Frowning, Dove stood up and crossed the street to the bottom of the church steps. Above the Roman collar, a craggy face. Grey-shot hair. His hands were immense. He towered above the blond youngster. “What is it, Father?” The priest came down another step. “You been sitting there long, boy?” Dove shrugged. “Naw.” “I’m waiting for a young lady. Redhead? About your age? You haven’t seen her go by?” “No, Father. When was she supposed to be here?” The priest shrugged up his tweed sleeve and looked at his watch. “Almost an hour ago. Maybe a little more. Peggy-Ann and I were supposed to do some work together this evening.” Dove grinned. “Was she pretty, Father?” The priest smiled. “Then maybe I’ll just sit out here and wait for her to come by.” The priest reached out and clapped Dove’s shoulder. Now he turned back up. Halfway, he stopped to finger himself, pulled down his zipper, and emptied his bladder on the steps. Dove narrowed his eyes at the cable of flesh. It was not as long as his. Urine made waterfalls down the steps, made a hot puddle about Dove’s calloused feet. Dove flattened his toes. Suddenly he got an odd look. A lot of it was grin. Something vicious tempered it. “Hey, Father?” The priest’s water trickled away. He shook himself, shoved himself in. “Hey, Father, you ever get to stick that big hook of yours in that redheaded pig’s pussy?” The priest frowned. “You know; the cunt you’re waiting for.” Dove gestured toward the priest’s crotch. “You got a fucker like a little whale shark. Don’t you ever stick her, Father? You go down in that strawberry sundae a-lickin’ and a-suckin’, like me?” Dove recognized the priest’s look as rage the same moment the father kicked. Dove twisted away, to crouch at the gutter edge, grinning. The metal teeth on the priest’s fly gaped and flashed. His fists clenched, raised beside his head. Then he stalked up the church steps. Dove’s laughter chattered high like broken glass. Ripples moved from his feet. Back in the alley he squatted beside them. Nig had her on the pavement. The buttocks rose and rose and rose. Dove touched them. They were sweaty, and they quivered at the bottom and top of each stroke. He pushed his finger in the crack.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  “I don’t think you understand!” The priest stood up. “She was . . . was savagely hurt, mentally as well as physically!” “Well,” Bull said. “If you want me to go out looking for the bastard . . . I will.” The priest began to speak, then shook his head—not in negation, but frustration. “This girl, since the death of her parents, has been like a daughter to me. You once mentioned your family to me. I understand that a man must have his reasons for not living with his chosen spouse, but I know you have daughters; surely you can understand this distraction of my feelings. I have nursed the growth of this girl in mind and body for a year. I merely ask you to consider what you would feel like if your little girls were so abused. You must come search for this creature with me. You . . .” In the dimness, the priest could not decipher the policeman’s expression. After a moment Bull said, “We’ll go looking for him.” He stood up from the bar. “Just a second, Father—I’ll be back.” He jerked up the rifle and strode out the back door. “The stupid bitch ran out of here and got herself messed up by some blame fool drifter after she left,” Bull announced, leaning from the door, a hand on either jamb. “Fool priest wants me to go hunting for the bastard. He’s probably skedaddled by now anyway if he done really shagged on the bitch that bad. I guess I won’t be able to go with you. Your Catherine woman is at the church. Least ways I’ll be able to keep the Father out of your hair while we’re hunting up the poor son of a bitch.” Bull was about to leave when the Captain stopped him with a hand around his wrist. “It wasn’t the drifter.” Bull frowned. “How you know?” “I talked to him this morning on the docks. That boy don’t rape.” Bull gave a cynical expression. Suddenly he turned. His fist hit Sambo’s shoulder. “Nigger, if your two bastards turn out to be at the bottom of this one too . . .” “Hey, Bull . . .” the black fisherman began. “God damn, this is the fourth or fifth time now. Shit! Look, you black bastard, you tell them salt and pepper shakers of yours they owe Bull some work for this one. I got me some little women over in the next town I want them to rough up for me. A couple of little girls, their old lady, and this bitch waitress. I been wettin’ my pants long enough dreamin’ about it. And, shit, nigger, tell ’em to watch out!” “Christ, Bull! All them women is a lot of work!”

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  The priest stood up. “She was . . . was savagely hurt, mentally as well as physically!” “Well,” Bull said. “If you want me to go out looking for the bastard . . . I will.” The priest began to speak, then shook his head—not in negation, but frustration. “This girl, since the death of her parents, has been like a daughter to me. You once mentioned your family to me. I understand that a man must have his reasons for not living with his chosen spouse, but I know you have daughters; surely you can understand this distraction of my feelings. I have nursed the growth of this girl in mind and body for a year. I merely ask you to consider what you would feel like if your little girls were so abused. You must come search for this creature with me. You . . .” In the dimness, the priest could not decipher the policeman’s expression. After a moment Bull said, “We’ll go looking for him.” He stood up from the bar. “Just a second, Father—I’ll be back.” He jerked up the rifle and strode out the back door. “The stupid bitch ran out of here and got herself messed up by some blame fool drifter after she left,” Bull announced, leaning from the door, a hand on either jamb. “Fool priest wants me to go hunting for the bastard. He’s probably skedaddled by now anyway if he done really shagged on the bitch that bad. I guess I won’t be able to go with you. Your Catherine woman is at the church. Least ways I’ll be able to keep the Father out of your hair while we’re hunting up the poor son of a bitch.” Bull was about to leave when the Captain stopped him with a hand around his wrist. “It wasn’t the drifter.” Bull frowned. “How you know?” “I talked to him this morning on the docks. That boy don’t rape.” Bull gave a cynical expression. Suddenly he turned. His fist hit Sambo’s shoulder. “Nigger, if your two bastards turn out to be at the bottom of this one too . . .” “Hey, Bull . . .” the black fisherman began. “God damn, this is the fourth or fifth time now. Shit! Look, you black bastard, you tell them salt and pepper shakers of yours they owe Bull some work for this one. I got me some little women over in the next town I want them to rough up for me. A couple of little girls, their old lady, and this bitch waitress. I been wettin’ my pants long enough dreamin’ about it.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  The priest stood up. “She was . . . was savagely hurt, mentally as well as physically!” “Well,” Bull said. “If you want me to go out looking for the bastard . . . I will.” The priest began to speak, then shook his head—not in negation, but frustration. “This girl, since the death of her parents, has been like a daughter to me. You once mentioned your family to me. I understand that a man must have his reasons for not living with his chosen spouse, but I know you have daughters; surely you can understand this distraction of my feelings. I have nursed the growth of this girl in mind and body for a year. I merely ask you to consider what you would feel like if your little girls were so abused. You must come search for this creature with me. You . . .” In the dimness, the priest could not decipher the policeman’s expression. After a moment Bull said, “We’ll go looking for him.” He stood up from the bar. “Just a second, Father—I’ll be back.” He jerked up the rifle and strode out the back door. “The stupid bitch ran out of here and got herself messed up by some blame fool drifter after she left,” Bull announced, leaning from the door, a hand on either jamb. “Fool priest wants me to go hunting for the bastard. He’s probably skedaddled by now anyway if he done really shagged on the bitch that bad. I guess I won’t be able to go with you. Your Catherine woman is at the church. Least ways I’ll be able to keep the Father out of your hair while we’re hunting up the poor son of a bitch.” Bull was about to leave when the Captain stopped him with a hand around his wrist. “It wasn’t the drifter.” Bull frowned. “How you know?” “I talked to him this morning on the docks. That boy don’t rape.” Bull gave a cynical expression. Suddenly he turned. His fist hit Sambo’s shoulder. “Nigger, if your two bastards turn out to be at the bottom of this one too . . .” “Hey, Bull . . .” the black fisherman began. “God damn, this is the fourth or fifth time now. Shit! Look, you black bastard, you tell them salt and pepper shakers of yours they owe Bull some work for this one. I got me some little women over in the next town I want them to rough up for me. A couple of little girls, their old lady, and this bitch waitress. I been wettin’ my pants long enough dreamin’ about it.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  Bull took a deep breath, looked around. “All right. Somebody help me get him out of the way.” Nig and Dove moved to grapple the carcass; but Bull swung at them with his rifle stock. “Get out of here!” They danced back, surprised. “You two bastards given me enough trouble tonight,” he grumbled. Bull swung again. They slunk, still grinning, to the rail. Dove left bloody footprints. Nig left none at all. “Come on, Captain. Help me get him put away.” With three running steps, and two walking, Kim came up beside them, took Bull’s gun. Watching the two men pick up the body, she turned her fist on the barrel. Was it warm from the murder shot, or the murderer’s belly? The expression on her face was not a smile; but it made Kirsten think of someone smiling. The captain hooked his hands under the corpse’s armpits. Bull picked up the ankles. As the hips left the deck and swung, one foot slipped Bull’s hand. The shoe heel banged. In the cabin a woman laughed. (Around the deck they look around.) Bull glanced at the hatch before he picked up the foot again. Nazi, breathing hard, stepped from in front of the gangplank to let them pass. He rubbed the wet hair on his chest. His breath was loud. The chain, with its swinging swastika, clinked on his wrist. His smile recalled someone in rage, or agony, or both. He was not thinking much of anything. Before the captain stepped from the gangplank to the dock, he hefted the body a little higher. Halved by the hull, the laughter shrilled and doubled back, more shrilly, through tones it had touched before. Light from the nearest porthole suddenly halved. The captain looked. A woman’s face pressed the glass, tongue caught at the corner of her mouth. Her fingers tipped the sill. Lamplight behind her exploded in loose hair, dimmed her features. In another part of the city, the longer hand on the church clock, in three starts, lurched a minute nearer midnight. Niger lolloped and high-legged it through the streets, pausing at a studio door, at the center of the city square, at a barred cellar window, to howl the season’s turning. A flash detonates all the combustible night. BULL, RETURNED: Anything? How about you want to suck on my dick. Shit, I can come ten or twelve times in a night, if I want. Last one was number nine. (He leans against the rocking cabin wall, hands in his pockets. Sometimes he moves his arm to brush Gunner’s. He stares directly in front of him and tries to make it seem as though it is the boat’s sway. On the rug, a hand flexes, is locked by another, is pulled back among heaving bodies. Gunner stares at the light points on the studs in Bull’s collar, the rigid flesh of the dark elbow, the reflections on the sweat under tangled belly hair.) You like piss, hey?

• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  All you’ve done since you got here is get fat! You’re disgusting. And your son is fat! He’s fat because you’re mean to him. You’re crazy! Your husband should take him to protect him from you. I’m gonna testify for him too if you mess with me. Get out of here. Get out of my room. You came in here to make a pass at me. You’re sick! You’re a fat, sick perverted lesbian! She runs back into the bathroom and slams the door. What’s going on in here? says a nurse, sticking her head in. Nothing, I say. Betty’s worried about her complexion, I think. In the dayroom the next day, Tina’s sketching a design for her wreath as I whisper what I’ve found out. She shrugs. You’ve gotta stay out of that. Some of those sores look infected, I say. She tilts her head to the door, and I follow her toward the phone booth. She sits on the wooden stool under the pay phone while I stand in the hall. She glances past me to be sure the coast is clear, then pulls up her ankle-length nightgown. On the very top of her thigh are a series of red slash marks, inflicted with surgical proficiency at varying depths. How’d you do that? I say. Pam sold me a lightbulb. Sold it to you…. For cigarettes. She sold Betty the lighter. We all do it, Mary. I’ve done it for years. It’s a messed-up thing to do. You don’t get it—we’re not trying to kill ourselves. I even use betadyne to be sure it’s clean. But Betty could wind up getting shock therapy again. Y’all could wind up staying here a long damn time. I like it here, she says. I find it restful. She stands up and slides her finger into the change slot, checking for left coins, as she says, Do you fancy a bedtime yogurt? Dairy products encourage healthy sleep. With me trailing behind, she starts toward the kitchen, adding, Or maybe a cup of that herb tea. Chamomile eases internal inflammation, also redness in the face. You could wind up in the Monkey House, Tina, I say (That’s what we call the more restrictive ward). Or medicated into oblivion like Flora. In the kitchen, she flips on the fluorescent light—a blinking hum. She says, Everybody has to work out their own shit. Isn’t that what your meetings tell you? I don’t know where I get the sentences to speak to her. Maybe honest care for her just infected me, but I say, Whenever you cut yourself, you’re carving your mother’s sick message into your flesh. Digging through the freezer for ice, Tina says, How many shrinks does it take to screw in a lightbulb? I’m serious, I say. None, she says, emerging with a container of yogurt. She adds, The lightbulb has to want to change.

• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  Then coming back from New York on the train one day, I slip into a familiar gap. It’s right before Christmas in a packed coach car, the overhead shelves crammed with suitcases and spilling bags and packages. I settle into a window seat with the backrest tilted far back. It’s the only place left. Behind me, a young woman—maybe nineteen—asks me to move my seat up. After fiddling with it for a second, I tell her it’s stuck in a deep recline. Then I lie back while passengers clot the aisles and jam in their overhead bags. She leans forward and says, very close to my ear, I bet if I yanked your hair, you could move that seat. And from my sagging state of half-sleep, I snap awake and shoot back, You picked the wrong bitch to fuck with on this train. Around us, the entire car stops. People hold gestures midair. She starts to kick the back of my seat—hard and rhythmically, which I don’t respond to at first. If I were thinking like anything but an animal, I would’ve apologized to her by now. But I sit there fuming instead, telling myself stuff like, She’s just doing this because I’m a woman of a certain age. I’m determined not to respond to the kicks that keep coming, but eventually, she says with force, You better not get off in Albany, bitch, ’cause I’ll slap your face. With blood pounding in my temples and all the venom that a woman disappointed in love can bring to an instant, I press my face into the slot between the seat and the window and hiss, If you touch me, I’ll cut your fucking hand off. I don’t even know where this sentence comes from. Not to mention that—in terms of cutting off a hand—I lack even a pair of cuticle scissors. All human activity within sound of me ceases. The entire car is throbbing with hatred for us both. The girl withdraws like a slug doused with salt, and the train lurches west. About twenty minutes out of the station, while I sit infused with acid at the outburst, I try to write the girl a note, but I wind up crouching by her seat to apologize. She shrugs coolly. Once home, I call my sobriety coach, Patti, who says, What d’you expect, Mare? Run around without a meeting, and eventually, you’ll start acting like a drunk again. I wasn’t that bad back then. Silence from Patti, who knows better. Okay, sometimes I was.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  to do one a personal injury, bBp. ets twa to injure that which belongs to one; but the distinction, though it seems just, was little attended to, v. Indices ad Oratt, Att.) :—also, 08p. ἐπί τινα to exult over a fallen foe, Eur. H. F. 708; Bp. ἐν κακοῖσιν Aesch. Ag. 1612, cf. Soph. Aj. TI51. 2. often c. acc. cogn., ὗβρ. ὕβριν Aesch. Supp. 880; ὕβρεις Eur. Bacch. 247, etc.; cf. ὑβρισμός; so, ὕβριν bBp. εἴς τινα Id. 1. A. 961, cf. Heracl. 18; ὕβρεις as κατὰ τὴν ἀγορὰν ὕβριζεν Dem. 614. 18; —and with a neut. Adj., ὑβρ. τάδε to commit these outrages, Hdt. 3. 118, ὕβρ. τἄλλα Ar. Lys. 400; ὅσα περὶ θεοὺς ὑβρ. τις Plat. Legg. 885 B, cf. 761 E;—and with other Nouns, τῶν ἀδικημάτων .., τῶν és ᾿Αθηναίους ὕβρισαν Hat. 6.87; (so prob., θεοὶ τισαίατο λώβην. ἣν οἵδ᾽ ὑβρίζοντες ἀτάσθαλα μηχανόωνται (ν. supr. II. 1) Od. 20. 370 :—and c. dupl. acc., τοιαῦτα ὑβρ. τινά Soph, ΕἸ. 613; ἡμᾶς ὑβρ. οὐκ ἐχρῆν τοιάνδ᾽ ὕβριν Eur. Supp. 512, cf. ΕἸ. 266, Plat. Symp. 222 A, Xen., εἴς. ; hence in Pass., ὕβριν ὑβρισθῆναι Eur. Bacch. 1298, Dem. 660. 20; τάλαιν᾽ ἐγὼ τῆς ὕβρεως ἧς ὑβρίζομαι Ar. Pl. 1044; ὧν δ᾽ εἰς τὸ σῶμα ὑβρίσθαι φημί Dem. 523. I. 3. at Athens in legal sense, to do one a personal outrage, to beat and insult, ravish, and the like, (cf. ὕβρις τι. 2), Lys. 142. 12., 169. 36, Dem. 516. 6sq., etc. ; γυναῖκες καὶ παῖδες ὑβρίζονται Thuc. 8.74; ὑβρισθῆναι Bia Plat. Legg.874C; τὰς γνάθους ὑβρισμένη mauled on the cheeks, Ar. Thesm. 903; ὑβριζόμενος ἀποθνήσκει he dies of ill-treatment, Xen. An. 3. 1, 13 ;—and of acts, τὰ ὑβρισμένα outrages, Lys. 97.65; opp. to αἰκίαι (cf. ὕβρις It. 3), Ar. Fr. 27; ὑβρίσθαι to be mutilated, of eunuchs, Xen. Cyr. 5. 4, 35. 4. pf. part. pass., of things, arrogant, ostentatious, onvel ἔχων ὑβρισμένα Eur. Phoen. 1112; στολὴ οὐδέν τι ὑβρισμένη Xen. Cyr. 2. 4, 5.—Cf. ὕβρις throughout. ὑβρικῶς, Adv. insolently, Jo. Chrys. ὑβρἴο-πἄθέω, to suffer outrageous treatment, like δεινοπαθέω, Walz Rhett. 3. 181, Byz.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  They growled and groaned toward ending. After the first time Nig came, Dove went outside the alley and sat down on the curb. Nig always had it three or four times, anyway. Dove sat looking at the dark face of the church. The shadowed carvings disappeared into the black on black silhouette as he looked up the twin spires. He scratched between his toes. He grinned at the sounds from the darkness behind. A line of light cut the facade. The door opened and a tall man stepped out on the church porch. He came down two steps, looked left, right. He saw Dove, motioned. Frowning, Dove stood up and crossed the street to the bottom of the church steps. Above the Roman collar, a craggy face. Grey-shot hair. His hands were immense. He towered above the blond youngster. “What is it, Father?” The priest came down another step. “You been sitting there long, boy?” Dove shrugged. “Naw.” “I’m waiting for a young lady. Redhead? About your age? You haven’t seen her go by?” “No, Father. When was she supposed to be here?” The priest shrugged up his tweed sleeve and looked at his watch. “Almost an hour ago. Maybe a little more. Peggy-Ann and I were supposed to do some work together this evening.” Dove grinned. “Was she pretty, Father?” The priest smiled. “Then maybe I’ll just sit out here and wait for her to come by.” The priest reached out and clapped Dove’s shoulder. Now he turned back up. Halfway, he stopped to finger himself, pulled down his zipper, and emptied his bladder on the steps. Dove narrowed his eyes at the cable of flesh. It was not as long as his. Urine made waterfalls down the steps, made a hot puddle about Dove’s calloused feet. Dove flattened his toes. Suddenly he got an odd look. A lot of it was grin. Something vicious tempered it. “Hey, Father?” The priest’s water trickled away. He shook himself, shoved himself in. “Hey, Father, you ever get to stick that big hook of yours in that redheaded pig’s pussy?” The priest frowned. “You know; the cunt you’re waiting for.” Dove gestured toward the priest’s crotch. “You got a fucker like a little whale shark. Don’t you ever stick her, Father? You go down in that strawberry sundae a-lickin’ and a-suckin’, like me?” Dove recognized the priest’s look as rage the same moment the father kicked. Dove twisted away, to crouch at the gutter edge, grinning. The metal teeth on the priest’s fly gaped and flashed. His fists clenched, raised beside his head. Then he stalked up the church steps. Dove’s laughter chattered high like broken glass. Ripples moved from his feet. Back in the alley he squatted beside them. Nig had her on the pavement. The buttocks rose and rose and rose. Dove touched them. They were sweaty, and they quivered at the bottom and top of each stroke. He pushed his finger in the crack.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  Tpaxive, Ion. τρηχ--: pf. τετράχῦκα (dmoT—-) Dion. H. de Comp. 22 :— Pass., aor. ἐτρᾶχύνθην Plut., etc.: pf. τετράχυσμαι Arist. H.A. 4.9, fin., Luc. Pisc. 51; 3 pl. -vvraz Arist. Probl. 11. 22; inf. -ὖνθαι Plat. Prot. 333 E:—Med., aor. τρηχύνατο Paul. Sil. Ambr. 217: (τραχύς). To make rough, rugged, uneven, Plat. Tim. 65D; c. acc., Tp. τὸ κύτος Ib. 67 A; αὔρη τρηχύνει πέλαγος Ap. Rh. 4. 768 :—Pass. to become rough, Plat. Tim. 66 C, Plut., etc.; of the sea, Arist. Color. 5; of the voice, Id. Audib. 52; tp. τῇ φωνῇ to use rough harsh tones, Plut. ἜΣ Gracch. 2. 2. in Aesch. Theb. 1045, τράχυνε refers to τραχύς γε μέντοι δῆμος just before, call them, make them as rough as may be, I care not. 3. tmetaph. in Pass. to be angry, exasperated, TeTpa- χύνθαι τε καὶ ἀγωνιᾶν Plat. Prot. 2232 Ε; πρός twa Polyb. 2. 21, 3, Plut.; κατά τινος Walz Rhett. 3. 580; 7p. 67... Dion. H. de Thue. 43- 4. Tp. Tas ἀκοάς to grate roughly on the ears, Dion. H. de Comp. 22. II. later intr. to be rough, 6 τραχύνων τόπος Diod. I. 32; τὰ τραχύνοντα τοῦ ποταμοῦ Plut. Cat. Ma. 20. τρᾶχυ-όδους, οντος, ὃ, 7, with rough teeth, Apoll. Lex. Hom. τρᾶχυ-ὀστρᾶκος, ον, rowgh-shelled, Arist. H. A. 4. 4, 6. τρᾶἄχύ-πους, 7050s, 0, 7, rough-footed, Arist. H. A. 5. 13, 3. E. M., | τρᾶχύς, εἴα, ὑ τραχηλιαῖος ---- nan

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  Bull picked up the rifle from the bar, turned around, and let the stock thump the floor. He lay the barrel up along the black denim. The tip was cold through the hair matting his belly. He moved his boot, clearing sawdust. “You want to tell me what this is all about, Father?” The priest, from the chair he had taken off the bar, looked up at Bull. In the shadow, his eyes returned to the leather band on the fleshy neck. “I called you at the jail. They told me you weren’t in. They suggested I try here at the Mirrors.” Bull turned his head slightly; the priest saw one of the brass studs flash on the collar. “Since it’s so near the church, I thought I’d come over.” “What is it, Father?” “Young Peggy-Ann . . . I have a study group for young women; for the ladies of this town interested in the spiritual problems of our age. And as they relate to other ages. So that they may find their proper and fitting place as women in this one. Now, the group is only two. But Peggy-Ann was late this evening. And I thought—” “What happened?” “She was molested! She was viciously molested, practically outside the church door!” Bull scraped at his crotch and shifted his weight. “Is she all right?” “Well, she’s . . . she was hysterical . . . no! No, of course she was not all right! The blood was running down her leg! She had huge bruises on her arms and breasts. She’d been cut and beaten besides. She was too terrified to defend herself. She can’t even walk. She’s too shocked, too hysterical to speak coherently. Catherine, the other woman in my group, is caring for her now at the church. Peggy-Ann had no family. They were killed in the fire on Colson Hill last Spring. You must excuse me, but I’m terribly upset by the whole business!” “Sure. I understand. Did she give you any idea who did it?” “But . . . but that’s why I’m upset! I saw who it was! I came out to look for her; and he was holding her in his arms!” “One of the fishermen? Them boys get some liquor in them and they just forget all manner of what’s decent—” “No. No, I don’t think so. He wasn’t anybody I’d ever seen from these parts. I’ve spent enough time at the docks so I know most of our boys by sight. No, it was probably a drifter. He didn’t have the look of one of our town’s boys. A skinny character, light hair.” “Do you think he’s liable to still be around? Did he see you?” “Yes.” “Then I bet he was scared off.” Bull shifted his weight. “You know, Father, probably the best thing you can do—” he worked his fist on the barrel “—is take as good care of the little girl as you can, and just forget—”

• From The Historical Jesus (2000)

  B. Let me explain how I understand the connection between Jesus’ life and death. In this lecture and the next, I’ll go into some of the details. 1. At the end of his life, Jesus brought his apocalyptic message of the coming judgment to Jerusalem. This judgment would be inflicted by the Son of Man, who would destroy all those opposed to God before establishing his kingdom. 2. Those who refused to accept this message would be condemned—even if they, like the Pharisees, followed the Torah of God exactly, or maintained the purity regulations of the Essenes, or remained faithful to the sacrificial cult of the Temple as the Sadducees did. 3. Religious leaders among these various groups, and the institutions they represented, would be destroyed by the Son of Man. So, too, would the Temple be destroyed. C. Jesus acted out this message when he arrived in Jerusalem. He entered the Temple and engaged in symbolic destruction as a warning of what was to come, overturning tables and causing a mild ruckus. 1. This public display and its accompanying message angered some of the chief priests, who recognized how explosive the situation could be during the Passover. 2. Fearing an uprising, the priests conferred, had Jesus arrested, and questioned him about his words against the Temple. 3. Realizing that it would be dangerous to let Jesus run loose, the priests decided to have him taken out of the way. They could not handle the matter themselves, however, because the Romans did not allow Jewish authorities to execute criminals. 4. They delivered Jesus to the governor, Pontius Pilate, who had no qualms at all about disposing of yet one more troublemaker who might cause a major disturbance. Jesus was then executed by the Romans on political charges. II. We are better informed about Jesus’ last days than about any other period of his life. For the Gospel writers, his life was mostly preparation for his death. A. Thus, the focus of the earliest surviving accounts is on Jesus’ last days. Mark devotes five of his sixteen chapters to the final week of Jesus’ life, and John devotes ten out of twenty-one. ©2000 The Teaching Company. 126

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  χαλβάνη, ἡ, Lat. galbdnum, the resinous juice or gum of a Syrian umbelliferous plant, Theophr. H. P. 9. 1, 2., 7. 2, Plut. 2. 1009 F, Diosc. 3. 97, etc.—(Prob. the Hebrew chelbénah.) χαλβᾶνίς, δος, ἡ, of or belonging to χαλβάνη, ῥίζα Nic. Th. 938. xaABavoets, εσσα, ev, of or from χαλβάνη, ῥίζα Nic. Al. 568. XaABiivov, τό, late form of χαλβάνη, like Lat. galbanum, ν. Dind. Steph. Thes. XadSatlw, to follow the Chaldaean fashion, speech, or creed, Philor. 551. Χαλδαῖος, 6, a Chaldaean, Hdt. 7. 63, Soph. Fr. 564, etc. 18h an astrologer, caster of nativities, since the Chaldaeans were much given to such pursuits, Arist. Fr. 30, Cic. Divin. 1. 1, cf. Hdt. τ. 181, Arr. An. 7. 17, Juven. 6. 553., 10. 94 :—XadSata (sc. γῆ), , Chaldaea, Steph. B., Ptol.:—XaASatkés, 7, dv, of or for the Chaldees, Ath. 529 F, Joseph., εἴς. :- Χαλδαϊστί, Adv. in the Chaldee tongue, v.1. Dan. 2. 26. χαλ-ειμάς, v. sub χαλιμάς. χαλεπαίνω, fut. --ἀνῶ Plat. Phaedo 116 C, al. :—aor. 1 ἐχαλέπηνα, subj. χαλεπήνῃ Il. 16. 386, inf. -ναι 18. 10S :—Pass., aor. ἐχαλεπάνθην.ν. infr.: (χαλεπός). To be severe, sore, grievous, like Lat. ingravescere, μέγα βρέμεται χαλεπαίνων [ἄνεμος] Il. 14. 399; εἰ Kat μάλα περ χαλε- παίνοι [χειμών] Od. 5. 485. 2. mostly of persons, ἐο be violent, be sorely angry, to be savage, ὅτε τις πρότερος χαλεπήνῃ 1]. 19. 183; absol. also in Att., Ar. Ran. ro20, Thuc. 3. 82, Plat., ete., v. sub χει- Paiva 2:—c. dat., to be angry with .. , Ζεὺς ὅτε δή p ἄνδρεσσι κοτεσσά- 1708

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  μενος χαλεπαίνει 1]. 16. 386, cf. Od. 5. 147., 16. 114., 19.835; so, x. TO ποταμῷ Hdt. 1. 189, cf. Thuc. 8. 92, Plat., Xen., etc.; αἱ [κύνες] τοῖς λίθοις, οἷς ἂν βληθῶσι, χαλεπαίνουσι Plat. Rep. 469 E:—also foll. by a Prep., x. ἐπί τινι to be angry at a thing, Od. 18. 415., 20. 3233; πρός τι Thuc. 2. 22,59; πρός τινα Xen. Mem. 2. 2, 1 :—also c. dupl. dat. pers. et rei, x. τινὲ Tots εἰρημένοις to be angry with him for his words, Id. An. 5. 5, 24 :—rarely, like χολοῦσθαι. etc., c. gen. causae, ὧν ἐμοὶ χαλεπαίνετε, τούτων τοῖς θεοῖς χάριν εἰδέναι Ib. 7. 6, 323; so, x. ὑπέρ τινος Luc. Indoct. 25 :—foll. by a relat., χαλ. ὅτι .. Ken. An. I. 5,14; Χαλ: ei.. Plut. Camill. 8, etc. IL. to provoke to anger, χαλεπαίνει 6 ὀργιζόμενος Arist. Poét. 17, 3 :—Pass. to be embittered or provoked, much like the Act. χαλεπανθῆναί τινι, ὅτι .. against one, Xen. An. 4. 6, 2, Cyr. 3. 1, 38; πρὸς twa Ib. 5. 2, 18. ITT. in Pass. also, zo be regarded with anger, to be treated harshly, ἐλεεῖσθαι .. μᾶλλον εἰκός ἐστί που .. ἢ χαλεπαίνεσθαι Plat. Rep. 337 A.—Cf. yaAerrw.—Never used in Trag. XGAet-npHs, és, poet. for χαλεπός, ἄεθλον Mimnerm. 11. χαλεπός, 7, dv, answers nearly to the Lat. difficilis (ὃ ἂν μὴ ῥάδιον ἢ ἀλλὰ διὰ πολλῶν πραγμάτων γίγνηται Plat. Prot. 341 Ὁ, cf. Arist. Rhet. 1. 6, 27), in various relations : 1. in Hom. mostly in reference to the feelings, hard to bear, painful, sore, grievous, epith. of κεραυνός, Il. 14. 4173 θύελλα 21. 335; ἄνεμοι Od. 12. 286; πόνος 23.250; ἄλγος, πένθος 2. 193., 6. 169; γῆρας Il. 8. 103; ἄλη Od. το. 464; so, x. ἄθλος Hes. Th. 800; ἔρις Pind. N. 10. 135; ἄλλα χαλεπώτερα Hat. 6. 40; and in Att., x. πνεῦμα Aesch. Supp. 165; δύη Id. Theb. 228; χαλεπώτατα [πράγματα] Soph. Tr. 1273; ἐυμφορά Eur. Hipp. 767 ; νόσος, πλάνη, πενία, etc., Xen. Symp. 4, 37, Plat. Soph. 245 E, etc. ; ἡ ἐσβολὴ αὕτη χαλεπωτάτη τοῖς ᾿Αθηναίοις ἐγένετο Thuc. 3. 26; [θὠρακες] δύσφοροι καὶ x., of ill-fitting cuirasses, Xen. Mem. 3. 10, 13: TO χαλεπὸν τοῦ πνεύματος the severity of the wind, Id. An. 4. 5, 4; τὰ χαλεπά hardships, sufferings, opp. to Ta τερπνά, τὰ ἡδέα, Id. Mem. 2. I, 23, etc.; τερπνῶν χαλεπῶν τε κρίσις Pind. Fr. 96. 2. hard to do or deal with, difficult, troublesome, irksome, ἔργον, πρᾶγμα, etc., Ar. Eq. 516, Thuc., etc.; χαλεπὰ τὰ καλά, a proverb attributed to Solon; χαλεπὸν ὃ Bios Xen. Mem. 2. 9. 1, cf. Plat. Symp. 176 D:— c. inf. act., like the Lat. supine in τ, χαλεπή τοι ἔγὼ μένος ἀντιφέρε- oOar=xadrenov ἐστί μοι ἀντιφέρεσθαί σοι Il. 21. 482; so, χαλεποὶ δὲ θεοὶ φαίνεσθαι ἐναργεῖς 20. 131; χαλεπὸν δέ 7 ὀρύσσειν [τὸ μῶλυ] Od. το. 305; x. ἀντιάσαι Pind. N. 10. 135; y. προσπολεμεῖν ὃ βασιλεύς Isocr. 69 A, cf. Thuc. 7. 51; x.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  tipwpta, Ion. -ty, 4, help, aid, assistance, succour, τ. εὑρίσκεσθαι Hdt. 3. 148, cf. 5. 00, etc.; ἡ df’ ὑμῶν τὶ Thuc. 1. 69, cf. 5. 112; τ. ποιεῖσθαί τινι Id. 1. 124; Τ. τοῦ τεθνεῶτος due to him, Antipho 112. 0. 2. of medical aid, Hipp. Acut. 386; cf. τιμωρέω 1. 2: II. assistance to one whohas suffered wrong, retribution, vengeance, punishment, (differing from κόλασις, corrective punishment, Arist. Rhet. 1. 10, 17), τ. καὶ τίσις Hdt. 7. 8, 1; πατρὸς τ. vengeance taken for him, Eur. Or. 425; μητρὸς αἵματος τιμωρίαι for having shed a mother’s blood, Ib. 400; ἐπὲ τῇ ἡμετέρᾳ τ. for the purpose of punishing us, Thuc. 3.63; ἡ κατά τινος τ. vengeance against or upon.. , Lycurg. 167. 39, cf. Dinarch. 103. 33, Dem. 317. 163 τ. ἐσομένη ἔς τινα Hdt. 1. 123, cf. Dem. 610. 10; τ. ὑπὲρ ἀδικηθέντος Antipho 142. 2, cf. Isocr. 398 E; with Verbs, of the avenger, ποιεῖσθαι τιμωρίαν to execute vengeance, Dem. 523. 7, etc.; τινός on one, Andoc. 31. 30; τ. Aap Ba- νειν ὑπέρ τινος Dem. 702. 20; but, παρά τινος λαμβάνειν τ. to receive it at his hand, Philem. Incert. 4. 14 ;—of the sufferer, 7. εὑρεῖν τινος to Jind vengeance at his hand, Aesch. Pers. 473; τιμωρίας τυγχάνειν Plat. Gorg. 472 Ὁ, etc.; (but also to obtain vengeance, Thuc. 2. 74, Xen. Cyr. 4.6, 7); τ. ἀντιδοῦναι Thuc. 2.53; τίνειν Plat. Legg. go5 A, etc. ; ὑπέχειν Thuc. 6. 80, Plat., εἴς. ; of persons in authority, ai τ. εἰσὶ παρὰ τῶν θεῶν Hdt. 2.120; τ. δοῦναί τινι to give him right of vengeance, Dem. 623. 10., 637. 20., 1374. 9; so, T. ποιεῖν τινί Id. 801. 20:— in pl., penalties, λαμβάνειν τὰς ἀξίας τιμωρίας Antiph. Incert. 73; ταῖς ἐσχάταις τιμωρεῖσθαι τ. Plat. Rep. 579 A, cf. Legg. 943 Ὁ, al. 2. in pl. state-punishments, v. τιμωρός II. 2.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  Xen. Hell. 5. 1, 29, An. 1. 3, 33 ἐπί τινι Id. Hell. 7. 4, 21, Dion. H. 3-qtally, a strap or thong, Eur. Cycl. 461. χαλεπηρής --- χαλινός, 50; also, x. φέρειν τινός Thuc. 2.62; also, χ. λαμβάνεσθαί τινος Hat. 2. 121, 43 xX. λαμβάνειν περί τινος Thue. 6. 61. 2. often in the phrase x. ἔχειν, to be angry, Xen. An. 6. 4, 16, etc.; τινί with one, id. Hell. 1.5, 16; πρός τι at a thing, Isocr. 27 B, 37C; πρός τινα, v. sub παγχαλέπως ; χ. ἔχειν τινὶ ἐπί τινι with a person for a thing, Dem. 498. Io, cf. Plut. Cic. 43; x. διακεῖσθαι πρός τινα Plat. Rep. 500 B; x. διατεθῆναι ἐπί τινι Plut. Pericl. 36. b. x. ἔχειν, also, to be in a bad way, Lat. male se habere, x. ἔχω ὑπὸ τοῦ ποτοῦ Plat. Symp. 176 A, cf. Theaet. 142 B.—Beside the regul. Comp. χαλεπώτερον (Thuc. 1. 77., 7. 50, Plat., etc.) we have —répws, Thuc. 8. 40: Sup. χαλεπώ- tara Id. 7. 71., 8.95, Plat., etc. XGAeTOMS, τος, 4, difficulty, ruggedness, τῶν χωρίων Thuc. 4. 12, BBs 2. of words, difficulty, Arist. An. Post. 2. 10, 1, cf. Plat. Soph. 254 A. II. mostly of persons, difficulty, harshness, rigour, severity, opp. to ῥᾳστώνη, Plat. Criti. 107 C, Legg. 902 C; ἡ τοῦ σοφι- στοῦ x. Id. Soph. 254A; τρόπων x. Id. Legg. 929 D; τῆς πολιτείας Isocr. 70 A; and absol., Thuc. 1. 84, etc.; of the Lacedaemonians, Isocr. 251 C; χαλεπότητι κολάζειν Id. 19D; μετὰ χαλεπότητος ἀκούειν Id. 314 B; of the laws of Draco, Arist. Pol. 2. 12, 13 :—in pl., opp. to πρᾳύτητες, Isocr. 106 A. 2. ill-temper, vice, of a horse, Xen. Eq. 3, 10; cf. χαλεπός A. IE. I. d. χἄλεπτύς, vos, ἡ, Ion. for foreg., Hesych. χἄλέπτω, fut. ψω, Causal of yaderaivw, to oppress, depress, crush, εἴρεσθαι δὲ θεῶν ὅστις σε χαλέπτει Od. 4. 4233; ῥέα δὲ βριάοντα χαλ- έπτει Hes. Ορ. 5 ; πιέζειν καὶ x. Plut. 2. 384 Β. II. to provoke, enrage, irritate, τινά Anth. P. 5. 263 :—Pass., χαλεφθείς τινι enraged at one, Theogn. 155, cf. Call. Cer. 49; χαλέπτεσθαί: τινί τινος with one for a thing, App. Civ. 3. 43; χαλέπτεο πένθεϊ θυμόν Q. Sm. 3. 780; συγγνῶθί μοι καὶ μὴ χαλεφθῇς Com. Anon. 47 :—Med., χαλεψαμένης ᾿Αφροδίτης Dion. P. 484, Ap. Rh. 1. 1341, cf. Nic. Th. 309. 2. rarely intr. to be angry, vexed, τινί at a person or thing, Bion 17. 2.— Poét. word, used sometimes in late Prose: cf. χαλεπαίνω. Xadeortpatov, ν. sub Χαλαστραῖος. χαλία, ἡ, -- ἡσυχία, Hesych. χαλίδιον, τό, a tablet, Hesych. χἄλϊδο-φόρος, ov, a cupbearer, Inscr. Messen. in C. I. 1297. χαλϊκο-λόγος, 6, a rubble-wall builder (?), C. 1. 9183. χἄλίκραιος, a, ov,=sq., Nic. Al. 29; who also has a Comp. χαλικρό- Tepos, Ib. 59, 626, as from the root χαλικρός, cf. Lob. Paral. 42. χἄλίκρητος, ov, post. for ἄκρατος, unmixed, μέθυ Archil. 64; σπονδαί Aesch. Fr. 388; νᾶμα Anth. P.5. 294, 6.