Fear

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.

Page 72 of 529 · 20 per page

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  Nig stopped his brother with an elbow, nodded toward a doorway. Dove frowned; they exchanged looks, went over. Dove: “Hey, you all right?” Robby lifted his head and blinked away the last of a dream about . . . and blinked again. Nig: “What you doin’ there?” Robby looked between them: big bones, scrawny bellies. He shook his head and grinned. “Guess I went to sleep while I was sittin’ down.” He got his feet under him, looked about the dark street. The boys were grinning. “Say,” he went on, “you guys know where to get some pussy? I been here a whole day, but I ain’t hardly seen none.” “Shit.” The black boy grinned more broadly. “You gotta beat it off with a stick in this town.” “If you can’t get none right away,” the white boy said, “there’s a dozen little nigger boys runnin’ around the boats who’ll suck your dick for a nickel.” “I don’t got no nickel,” Robby said. “Besides, I don’t go for that shit.” The black was still grinning. “All the pussy running around this town, I don’t have to spend no more ’n’ twenty-five cents ever’ year or so. I get it two, three, four times a day.” Robby shook his head again. “I guess I just don’t have that nigger luck.” “Look,” the white one told him, “you better not sleep in the doorway. You gonna have a run in with a man named Bull. You won’t see him comin’. Everybody knows him so he don’t wear a uniform.” “Big bald-headed mother.” “You don’t see him, but then he got his gun in your neck, and there you’re all locked up.” “You go under the docks,” the black one said. “That’s where you can get some sleep.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Say, what’s your name, if you’re gonna be hangin’ around for a few days?” “Robby,” Robby said, and stuck up his hand. “I’m Dove.” They shook. “This is Nig.” Nig took his hands out of his pockets, shook. Then he squatted by the door, black toes splayed in his pool of shadow. “You fellows work the boats?” Nig nodded and Dove said, “Sometimes.” “I guess there ain’t too much more to do in this town.” Robby hugged his knees. His eyes roamed the street. “Sometimes finish was something else. I mean, I’d like to get some work that just wasn’t the easiest thing to find right off. I’d maybe even like to go to school. I know guys who go to school and they got good jobs. What I think I’d really like would be something where I could move around. That would be better than school, you know?” Nig scratched the faded part of his pants groin, bagged with the weight inside. “We got ourselves a good job, Dove and me. Make more money than on the boats.” “What you do?” Dove squatted and threw back his hair. “Rape artists.”

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  Reflexively, thinking somehow she might hurt herself, he caught it. Her hand twisted about on its very small wrist. Her lips snarled back. She made a high, screeching sound that finally broke, and broke again, till she shook with rasping sobs. And she kept hitting at his chest and head. He tried to duck and at the same time not drop her. She hit him above the eye, so he raised his head—her movements were all despair and no strength—and saw the church door open. A tall priest (white collar, tweed jacket), stepped out— She clawed at Robby’s face. He grunted and pushed her hand away, terribly relieved by the advent of someone official. “What the . . . Peggy-Ann! Boy, what are you doing to—” The father came quickly down the steps into the street lamp glare. Robby saw his expression and wondered. “Get away from that girl!” Realization struck him the same time as the priest’s foot. It hit his shoulder, glanced his ear. Robby fell back, scraping the heels of his palms on the wet cement. He scrambled, trying to hold the side of his head. The priest stood over the girl. The fear broke apart all that was left of Robby’s astonishment, scattered it. He rolled to his knees, rocked to his feet, and ran. He heard the priest call something after him. And kept running. Tripped once, rolled over, and came up crying. And ran again. PROCTOR’S ADDRESS : There, leave your pleasuring a moment. I have something to tell you. Yes, yes, I know elegance and symmetry would have me wait until we are all assembled. But one of the side effects of a life dedicated to sensuality is a lack of punctuality—though not dependability, once we learn to decode behavioral signs: there simply is no way I can guarantee an assemblage of all the demons I should like to raise. I am merely human. sambo, your sons would certainly enhance our number. Nazi, if you would loose that creature in the basement, what an ornament he would make us! No matter. I doubt I shall say anything our more experienced members have not already discerned for themselves. If I do outline a famliar template, then by all means go back to rutting on the fouled mattresses—as the lustier company, I notice by the grunts and sounds of sweaty bodies slapping that comes through the shadows, have already begun to do. I only beg you not to make so much noise that those who are bored with indulgence, tired, or (one hopes there are few so unfamiliar with the process as to be:) honestly curious, cannot hear. If it is to be said at all, it must be said now. Ah! I see you, our least experienced member, have left off rubbing and twisting a bit.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  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—” “I don’t think you understand!”

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  Fingers in his mouth—one hand over his nose, one pulling down over his chin—kept his teeth apart. “Stick it right on in. Right on down.” Robby got one hand loose and struck at the canvas covered legs. Iron behind the cloth. He thought he was falling, slapped the ground to balance. A bare foot pinned his hand, bruising it. “Hey, look at this cocksucker—” He couldn’t get breath. “You better swallow, or you gonna die—” He couldn’t swallow for gagging. His tongue blunted on the flesh that flooded him. One of them wiped his hands over his face—so hard it hurt—and he could see: a big buckle and splattered cloth, very near. Then the ridged black belly, small head far away. But grinning. The nigger swung his hand—still grinning—and Robby’s ear clanged with the smack. One eye went blazing blind. But jarred into him. He got one gasp without taking in water. The knuckles came back the other way. With the pain, urine flushed his eyes. He reeled under their hands and his hand was still clamped on the ground. He swallowed. When they dropped him he went down clutching at their ankles. His face rolled over a foot. As he knuckled his eyes, toes struck his cheek. He curled on his side. Glancing up, he saw a fist slide up a dick. “Motherfucker—” the fisherman drawled, puckered his lips to a prune. He kicked again. Robby gaped with pain. The fisherman spat. Robby swallowed out of surprise: froth, and thicker than froth. He rolled his head aside, while their laughter unraveled. “Come on, nigger! This is the third white face you been in tonight.” “We better get on back to Proctor, before he gets where he’s goin’.” “Did me good to see him drink it down!” “Shit, you’d a’ thought that son of a bitch didn’t like it none, hey?” “He sure gonna feel funny in a little while when that stuff hits!” They laughed, and the laughter moved up the bank. Robby scrubbed his palm on his mouth. He got to his knees. His jaw hurt. He pulled his wet shirt from his chest, let it flop back. He pulled the thigh of his pants out with his fingertips. He stood, frowning. His left foot was awash in his shoe. He walked up the bank from under the dock. He slipped once, and barked a curse. His voice died quivering. He gained the concrete, looked along the boats; looked down at himself. Looked across the street. One corner of his mouth kept twitching. He lurched across the street, ducked into the alley as two men appeared from behind a further boat. He turned to watch them in the moon’s light.

• From The John Dominic Crossan Essential Set (Jesus; The Birth of Christianity; The Power of Parable; The Greatest Prayer) (2004)

  It is hardly likely, against that background, that Josephus would explain too clearly or underline too sharply the existence of alternative apocalyptic or messianic fulfillments before or apart from Vespasian himself. Besides, therefore, a first Josephan prejudice in favor of Roman imperial power as a heavenly mandate, there is also this second prejudice in favor of the Flavian dynasty as decreed by God, foretold by the Bible, and prophesied by Josephus himself. And all of that must be kept in mind in reviewing his account of John the Baptist. In Chains to Machaerus Recall what was said in the preceding chapter about Herod the Great’s three sons assuming different portions of their father’s domains after his death in 4 B.C.E . Around the year 30 C.E ., Herod Antipas, who received Galilee and Perea, had rejected his first wife in order to marry Herodias, wife of his half-brother Herod, and thereafter had been defeated in battle by his rejected father-in-law, Aretas, king of the Nabateans. Josephus frames his account of the Baptist by the suggestion that divine vengeance for John’s execution lay behind that military defeat. His account of John is suffused with theological apologetics and becomes, in fact, less comprehensible the more one thinks about it. I give the text from Antiquities 18.116–119 in two parts, the better to comment on its strangeness. Herod had put him [John, surnamed the Baptist] to death, though he was a good man and had exhorted the Jews to lead righteous lives, to practice justice towards their fellows and piety towards God, and so doing to join in baptism. In his view this was a necessary preliminary if baptism was to be acceptable to God. They must not employ it to gain pardon for whatever sins they committed, but as a consecration of the body implying that the soul was already thoroughly cleansed by right behaviour. Josephus insists that baptism was not a magical or ritual act that removed sin but rather a physical and external cleansing available only after an already effected spiritual and internal purification. It is certainly difficult to see anything worthy of death in a bodily rite primarily intended for those already saints, and from that description alone one would not expect crowds coming to John for such a baptism. But one already senses, behind Josephus’s careful exposition, a somewhat different understanding of baptism, one in which body and soul were united and in which the rite removed sin just as surely as did the actions of the priests in Jerusalem’s Temple. It was, in fact, as Josephus so carefully denies, a calculated alternative to that salvific system. He continues his story about John: When others too joined the crowds about him, because they were aroused to the highest degree by his sermons, Herod became alarmed. Eloquence that had so great an effect on mankind might lead to some form of sedition, for it looked as if they would be guided by John in everything that they did.

• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  I last saw her in a public hospital, where she was blind, HIV-positive, and pregnant with a baby who died—I believe—around the time Chris did. She didn’t make it to twenty-one. Thanks, Chris T., for hauling my ass into the light that day, and still.) A week before the Whiting ceremony, Lux and I take our kids to the park, settling them in to swing through their low-slung arcs. It’s near dusk when I ask if he has any truck with a supreme intelligence. C’mon, he says. There’s a force that fuses the greeney flower. Look at these damn kids. There’s an energy that threads through us that deserves your reverence. It’s not all serial killers and Hitlers. Of course it is, I say. Ever notice, Tom says, your mind immediately leaps to the most extreme position—like, if you turn to God, He’s gonna nail you to a tree. I’m scared I’ll drink at the Whiting ceremony. A week away. A year ago I’d have killed to get to go to double-barrel cocktail parties. Lux looks at me sideways and asks, Want me to go with you? Though I’m a champion whiner, inclined to blame people for failing to help, I almost never outright solicit a favor. The offer stuns me. I’m teaching in New York that day anyway, Lux says. I could make it to the second party—the big public one. On the appointed day, I stand before the Park Avenue hotel they booked for me, wondering why it looks so familiar. As I stare up at the facade, it hits me that—at some point in the 1970s, I scored cocaine in this very building. At the elevator, the numbers glow down to me while I stifle an animal impulse to bolt. Help me, blind power, I think, get through. (Prayers of real desperation like this—however sparse—are starting to come unbidden. Sometimes one even leaves a sense of peace—or at least hope that peace is coming.) I fling my hanging bag on the bed and instinctively draw the drapes against light. Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I decide that the black dress I zipped on thinking it made me look employable as a professor in fact has shoulders padded like a linebacker’s. I flop on the bed and click the TV on to channel-surf when I notice that, just under the screen, sits a minibar. I can picture the frosty air it holds, its tidy array of bottles. Eyeing it like I would a crocodile sloe-eyed on the bank, I back out of the room and take the elevator downstairs again. The desk clerk says housekeeping can take it out eventually, but they’re overloaded. So I sit in the lobby, hands twisting in my lap, until it’s time for the drinks I can’t have.

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

  τυφλός, ἡ, dv, (v. fin.) blind, in Hom. only Il. 6. 139, h. Ap. 172, but common in all other writers; τυφλὸς ἐκ δεδορκότος Soph. O. T. 4543 τ. “Apns, Πλοῦτος, "Ἔρως Id. Fr. 720, Theocr. 10. 19 sq.; τ. ὄψις, ὀφ- θαλμοί, Eur. Cycl. 697, Plat., etc. :—c. gen., τ. Twos blind to a thing, Xen. Symp. 4, 12 (cf. τυφλόω τ) :---τὰ τυφλὰ Tod σώματος, i.e. one’s back, Id. Cyr. 3. 3, 45 :—Proverb., ὁ τυφλὸς παρὰ τὸν κωφὸν καλεῖ, of one whose attacks are unfelt, Cratin. ᾿Αρχιλ. 3; καὶ τυφλῷ γε δῆλον even a blind man can see that, Plat. Rep. 550 Ὁ. 2. of the limbs of the blind, τ. πούς Eur. Hec. 1050, Phoen. 834, etc. (cf. rupAdmovs) ; χείρ Eur. Phoen. 1699; so, βάκτρον, τοξεύματα Id. lon 744, H. F. 199- 3. metaph. of the other senses and the mind, τ. ἦτορ Pind. N. 7. 343 τυφλὸς τά 7 ὦτα, τόν τε νοῦν, τά τ᾽ ὄμματ᾽ εἶ Soph. O. T. 3713 τὴν τέχνην ἔφυ τ. Ib. 389. 4. metaph., 7. ὄλβος Eur. Fr. 7733 φύσις ἄνευ μαθήσεως τυφλόν Plut. 2. 2 B; τῇ τύχῃ .., ἣν τυφλὴν λοιδοροῦμεν Ib. οϑ A; τ. ἔδραμε πᾶσα τρόπις Anth. Ρ. 9. 280. 11. of things, blind, dark, unseen, dim, obscure, ἐλπίδες Aesch. Pr. 250; ἄτη Soph. Tr. 1104; τὸ δ᾽ αὔριον τυφλὸν αἰὲν ἕρπει Id. Fr. 685; τ. σπιλάδες blind rocks, Anth. P. 7. 2753 at ἄνευ ἐπιστήμης τυφλαὲ δόξαι Plat. Rep. 506 Ο; δεσμῶν τ. ἀρχαί hidden, Plat. Alex. 18: τ. πάνυ καὶ κρύφιον Id. 2. 983 Ὁ ; ἀσαφὴς καὶ τ. ὑπόνοια Ib. 587 C, etc. 2. of passages or apertures, blind, closed, with no outlet, Tov ἐντέρου τυφλόν τι, of the intestinwm coecum (τὸ τυφλόν in Galen.), Arist. P. A. 3. 14, 20, cf. 26; τ. ὁδοί ΑΕ]. ap. Suid.: of rivers and har= 1592 bours, choked with mud, Plut. Sulla 20 (v. sq.), cf. Id. Caes. 58 :---τυφλὸς ὄξος a branch without buds or eyes, Theophr. H. P. 1. 8, 4, C.P. 3. 2, 8; τ. κῦμα dark, trackless, Anth. P. 7. 400., 12. 156; (so, caecis in undis, Virg.); T. μώλωψ a hidden wound, Plut. Aemil. 19. ἘΠῚ. Ady., τυφλῶς ἔχειν πρός τι to be blind to it, Plat. Gorg. 479 H; τ. καὶ ἀ- σκέπτως Antip. ap. Stob. 418; τ. καὶ οὐ γνωρίμως Strab. 442. (τυφλός is perh. akin to τύφω, in the sense of misty, darkened, cf. τῦφος II, τυφεδανός.)

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

  wrongly in Mss, ὑπέργηρος, ον. ὑπεργίγνομαι, Dep. to be over and above, Eccl. ὑπεργλίχομαι [7], Dep. to be very desirous, c. inf., Manass. Chron, 1307. ὑπεργλύκάζω, to be exceedingly sweet, Pisid. ὑπέργομος, ov, overladen, Strab. 818. ὑπεργονία, ἡ, excessive fertility, Philo 2. 526. ὑπέργυιος, ον, (γύα, γυία) -- ὑπερμήκης, Hesych. tmépdacus, υ, very hairy, ἀνήρ Xen. Cyr. 2. 2, 28. with leaves, κιττός Ael. Ν. A. 7. 6. ὑπερδεής, és, gen. ἔος : Ep. acc. imepdéa, for ὑπερδεέα, cf. ἀπκλεής, dvorhens : (δέος) :—above all fear, undaunted, ὑπερδέα δῆμον ἔχοντες Ul. 17. 330. So Eust. But most of the Gramm. derive it from δέομαι (to want) much less, inferior, v. Spitzner. ὑπερδείδω, to fear for one, ws ὑπερδέδοικά σου Soph. Ant. 82; δρά- κοντα .. τέμνων ὑπερδέδοιιε to fear it for or because of .. , Aesch. Theb. 292. 2. to fear exceedingly, τινά Themist. 138 C: absol. to be in exceeding fear, Hdt. 8. 94. ὑπερδειμαίνω, to be much afraid of, τινά Hat. 5. 19. ὑπέρδεινος, ov, exceeding alarming or dangerous, τὸ πρᾶγμά μοι εἰς ὑπέρδεινον περιέστη Dem. 551. 2, cf. Luc. Tim. 13. 2. very able, ῥητώρ Poll. 4. 20; ὑπ. εἰπεῖν Dio Chrys. 2. 215. ὑπερδευπνέω, to feast immoderately, Hesych, ὑπερδεκαπλάσιος, a, ov, more than tenfold, Eust. 190. 11. ὑπερδεκατάλαντος, ov, of more than ten talents, Phalar. Ep. 113. ὑπερδέξιος, ov, lying above one on the right hand, εἶχον ὑπ. χωρίον οὐ χαλεπώτατον, καὶ ἐξ ἀριστερᾶς .. ποταμόν Xen. An. 4. 8, 2, ubi v. Hutchinson: cf. ἐπιδέῤλιος. II. simply, lying above or over, ὑπ. χωρίον higher ground, Ib. 3. 4, 37, etc.; τὰ ὑπερδέξια Ib. 5. 7, 31; ἐξ ὑπερδεξίου from above, Id. Hell. 7. 4, 13, Polyb., etc. ; ἡ ἐξ ὑπερ- δεξίου τάξις on the side from which the stream comes, ld. 3. 43, 33 ἐκ τῶν ὑπερδεξίων Xen. Hell. 4. 2, 14; ἐξ ὑπερδεξίων Luc. Tim. 45, Paus. :—c. gen. commanding from above, or simply above, λόφος ὑπερ- δέξιος τῶν πολεμίων Polyb. I. 30,73 τοῦ τείχους Id. το. 30, 7, etc. :— also of streams, ἔστιν ἡ Σηστὸς ὑπ. τοῦ ῥοῦ above the source of the stream, Strab. 591. 2. metaph. superior, having the advantage in a thing, τινι Polyb. 5. 102, 3, etc.: victorious over, τινος Plut. Num. 20. ὑπερδέομαι, Dep. to supplicate for another, Dion. Areop. ὑπερδέω, to bind upon, τι τοῖς μηροῖς Anth. P. 6. 166. ὑπερδιατείνομαι, Pass. Zo strain or exert oneself above measure, Dem. 770. 4 (and, acc. to some, 501. 3), Luc. Hermot. 25, etc. ὑπερδικαιόω, to punish with severity, Schol. Pind. P. to. 68. ὑπερδικάζω, fut. dow, to vindicate, defend, τινός Aquila V. T. ὑπερδίκέω, to plead for, act as advocate for, Tod λόγου Plat. Phaedo 861"; ὑπ. τὸ φεύγειν τινός to advocate acquittal for him, Aesch. Eum. 652; ὑπ. ὑπέρ τινος Dio C. 38. 10: absol., Plut. 2. 694 E, Poll. II. thick ὑπέρδικος, ov, more than just, severely just, Νέμεσις Pind. P. το, 68; ὑπερβολία — ὑπερεκχέω.

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

  φοβερός, a, dv, (φόβος) fearful, whether act. or pass. : Τ' act: like δεινός, causing fear, dreadful, frightful, terrible, formidable, χρηστήρια p. Hdt. 7. 139, Aesch. Pr. 127, Th. 78, ete. ; πλήθει p. for- midable only from numbers, Thuc. 2. 98 (but in Isocr. 3 C, fearju/ fo the multitude, cf. Plat. Phaedo 67 E); c. inf., φ. ἰδεῖν, p. προσιδέσθαι fear- Jul to behold, Aesch. Pers. 27, 48, Eur., etc.; ᾧ. προσπολεμῆσαι Dem. 42. 12, cf. Theocr. 22. 2 :-- τὸ ξύνηθες τοῖς μὲν πολίταις φοβερόν the terror habitually prevalent among the people, Thuc. 6. 55. 2. of h serving as matter of fear, regarded with fear, esp. with respect to con- 5 Pa 1684 sequences, οὐδὲ ὅρκος φ. Thuc. 3. 83; ἵππος φοβερὸς μὴ ἀνήκεστόν τι ποιήσῃ a horse that makes one fear he will do some mischief, Xen. Hier. 6,15; σεμνότερος καὶ φοβερώτερος δοκεῖ εἶναι Andoc. 31.273; φοβεροὶ ἦσαν μὴ ποιήσειαν Xen. An. 5. 7, 2; φοβερώτεροι τοῖς πολεμίοις Id. Eq. Mag. 4: 11, cf. Ages. 11, 10 :---φοβερὸν ἡ τριήρης is a formidable thing, Id. Oec. 8, 8; φ. τὸ mpd τῶν λυπηρῶν ἱπροσδόκημα] Plat. Phileb. 32 C; φοβερώτατον ἐρημία Xen. An. 2. 5, 9:—also, τὸ ¢. terror, danger, Id. Lac. 9,1; τὰ φ. Plat. Phileb. 49 B; τῶν φοβερῶν ὄντων τῇ πόλει γενέσθαι the things which were dreaded as likely to happen.., Xen. Hell. 1.4,17:—poBepdv [ἐστι] μὴ .. there is reason to dread that.., Id. Cyr. 7. 5, 22, Hier. 1, 12 :----ἀγγέλλεσθαι ἐπὶ τὸ φοβερώτατον to be fearfully exaggerated, Dion. H. 1.57. 3. in Rhetor. of style, severe, grave, impressive, Dion. H. de Lys. 13, etc. II. pass., like δειλός, feeling fear, scared, affrighted, afraid, timid, ἐκτέταμαι φοβερὰν φρένα Soph. O. T. 153, cf. Alcae. (ap. Schol.) 94; ὄμμα Pseudo-Eur. I. A. 620; opp. to θαρσαλέος, Thuc. 2. 3, Xen. Cyr. 3. 3, 19; φ. τὴν ψυχήν Id. Oec. 7, 25; σκοπεῖν εἰ φοβεροὶ (sc. of πῶλοι) Plat. Rep. 412 Ὁ; φ. ποιεῖν τινα Id. Legg.647 C; φ. εἰς τὸ τολμᾶν Ib. 649D. 2. caused by fear, troubled, panic, ἀναχώρησις Thuc. 4. 128; φοβερὰ ὄσσοις ὀμίχλη προσῇξε Aesch. Pr. 144; $. φροντίδες anxious thoughts, Plat. Theag. 127 B. III. Adv. --οῶς, in both senses, Lys. 169. 33, Xen., etc.; Comp., φοβερώτερον φθέγγεσθαι Id. Symp. 1, 10; Sup., poBepw- rata ἔχειν Id. Eq. Mag. 8, 20, cf. Cyr. 8. 3, 5. poBeporys, ητος, %, the power of causing fear, terribleness, Arist. Rhet. Tas it. Joseph. 1. 7... 81 5: φοβερ-ωπός, dv, Orph. Fr. 8. 8, and φοβερ-ώψ, ὥπος, ὁ, 7, Id. H. 69. 8, (wp) terrible of aspect. φοβεσι-στράτη [ἃ], ἡ, scarer of hosts, epith. of Athena, Ar. Eq. 1177: —also φοβέ-στρἄτος, Galen., who further cites p. aiyis from Hes. ; cf. E. M. 797. 54.

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

  ὑπέρχολος, ov, exceeding bilious or wrathful, Antiph. Incert. 92. ὑπ-έρχομαι, fut. -ελεύσομαι : Dep. with aor. and pf. act: Hom. uses only the aor. in both forms. To go or come under, get under, Lat. subire, c. acc., ὑπήλυθε θάμνους Od. 5. 476; ὑπήλθετε δῶμ᾽ ᾿Αΐδαο 12. 21; ἐπεί κε μέλαθρον ὑπελθῇ 18. 150; ὄφρ. ἂν γᾶν ὑπέλθῃ Aesch. Eum. 339;—with a Prep., ὑπ. ὑπὸ τὴν φορὰν (or τὴν πληγὴν) τοῦ ἀκοντίου to come within its range, Antipho 121. 35., 124. 20; ὑπὸ τὸ ἀκόντιον Ib. 34; εἰς τὴν ὁδὸν τοῦ ax. Ib. 23 :—rarely c. dat., Plut. Comp. Pericl. 2. ΤΙ. like ὑφέρπω τι. 2, of involuntary feelings, to come upon, steal over one, c. acc., Τρῶας δὲ τρόμος αἰνὸς ὑπήλυθε γυῖα 1]. 7. 215., 20. 44; ὑπέρχεταί pe φρίκη Hdt. 6.134; ὥς μ᾽ ὑπ- HAGE τις φόβος Soph. Ph. 1231, cf. El. 1112; θαῦμά τοί μ᾽ ὑπέρχεται 10. 928 ; ὥσθ᾽ ἵμερος μοὐπῆλθε .. Eur. Med. 57, cf. Philem. Στρατ. 1.1; οὐ yap τις οἶκτος σῆς μ᾽ ὑπ. φυγῆς Eur. Hipp. 1089; és δ᾽ ἄκραν δεῖμ᾽ ὑπῆλθε κρατὸς φόβαν, of fear causing the hair to stand up, Soph. Ph. 1231; ἐκ ποδῶν δ᾽ ἄνω ὑπ. σπαραγμὸς eis ἄκρον Kapa Aesch. Fr. 165; ὑπελήλυθέν τέ μου νάρκα τις ὅλον τὸ δέρμα Menand. Φαν. 1. 111. of persons, ¢o creep or insinuate oneself into another's good graces, to fawn on, cringe to, εἶδες οἷ᾽ ὑπέρχεται ; Ar. Eq. 270; of κριταὶ ὑπ. ᾿Αλκιβιάδην Andoc. 31. 43; tm. τὰς ἀρχάς, τοὺς πολεμίους Xen. Lac. 8, 2, Ath. 2, 14; ὑπ. πάντας ἀνθρώπους καὶ δουλεύων Plat. Crito 53E; ὑπ. καὶ θερα- πεύειν Dem. 623. 22; ὑπ. δώροις καὶ κολακείαις Plut. Cato Mi. 50. 2 to undermine, entrap, beguile, λάθρα μ᾽ ὑπελθών Soph. O. T. 386; of’ αὖ p’ ὑπῆλθες Id. Ph. 1007; δόλῳ μ᾽ ὑπῆλθες Eur. Andr. 436, cf. Supp. 138,1.A.67; τὸν ἄνδρα ποικίλως ὑπ. ἐν λόγοισιν Ar. Eq. 459. Iv. c. ace, Tei, to seek by base arts, τὴν τυναννίδα Plut. Dio 7; φιλίαν Dio Chr. V. to advance slowly, of an army, Xen. An, 5. 2, 30; cf. ὑπάγω II. VI. to recede, give away, Arist. Cael. 2. 13, 22. ὑπερχράομαι, Med. to use to excess, Eust. Opusc. 221. 17, Schol. ὑπέρχρεως, wy, over head and ears in debt, Dem. 821. 14. ὑπερχρονίζω, to be over the time, Hesych. ὑπερχρόνιος, ov, beyond the usual time of life, very old, Paroe- eee ΤΙ. beyond time, eternal, Eccl.; so also ὑπέρχρονος, ov, Ib. ὑπέρχρῦσος, ov, above gold in value, Eccl. ὑπέρχῦσις, ews, ἣ, an overflowing, Strab. 743, Plut. 2. 502 A, εἴς. ὑπερχωρέω, prob. f. 1. for bmex-, Arist. Physiogn. 6, 57. ὑπέρψῦχος, ov, overpowering the soul, Plat. Tim. 88 A. ὑπέρψυχρος, ov, very frigid, of bad wit, Luc. Hist. Conscr. τό. ὑπερψύχω [Ὁ], fo strike with a violent chill, Hipp. 446.37 sq. :—Pass., Id. 516. 17, Arist. Eth. E. 7. 5, 6. ὑπερῶ, Att. fut. of ὑπεῖπον. ὑπερωδὔνέω, to feel excessive pain, Hipp. 1175 C.

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

  9 “~ TL —— THNT LS. or bad, hence to have the courage, hardihood, effrontery, cruelty, or the grace, charity, patience, to do anything, ἔς τε δὴ πατρὶ ἔτλην γεγωνεῖν νυκτίφοιτ᾽ ὀνείρατα I took courage to.., Aesch. Pr. 657, cf. Ag. 224; ἔτλα.. φῶς ἀλλάξαι submitted to exchange.., Soph. Ant. 944; πῶς ἔτλης σὰς ὄψεις papavat; how couldst thou quench thy orbs of sight? Id. O.T. 1327; οὐδ᾽ ἔτλης .. ἐφυβρίσαι nor hadst thou the cruelty to.., Id, Aj. 13845 μὴ TATS με προδοῦναι be not so cruel as to forsake me, Eur. Alc. 275 (v. Monk. ad 1.); οὐ yap ἂν τλαίην ἰδεῖν I could not bear to see, Ar. Nub. 110, cf. 1386, Vesp. 1159, Pl. 280. 2. c. acc. rei (where δρᾶν may be supplied), to dare a thing, i.e. dare to do it, d7AnTa τλᾶσα Aesch. Ag. 408; εἰ καὶ τοῦτ᾽ ἔτλη Soph. Tr. 71, cf. Eur. Hec. 1251. 3. c. part., τάδε τέτλαμεν εἰσορόωντες Od. 20. 311; (but in 5. 362, Il. 5. 383 the part. is independent of the Verb); so also Simon. 85. 13, Aesch. Ag. 1041, Theb. 756, Soph. El. 943. τλή-θῦμος, Dor. τλάθ--, ov, of enduring soul, stout-hearted, Ὀδυσσεύς Anth. P. 9. 472; 7A. κύων a staunch hound, Pind. Fr. 258; 7A. ἀλκὰ παγκρατίου 14. Ν. 2. 24. τληκαρδίως, Αἀν., -- τλησικαρδίως, Tzetz. ἔτλῆμι, ν. sub ἔτλάω. τλημόνως, Adv. of τλήμων, 4. ν. τλημοσύνη, ἡ, that which is to be endured, misery, distress, in pl., ἢ. Hom, Ap. 191. II. endurance, Archil. 8. 6, Plut. Crass. 26. τλήμων, Dor. τλάμων, ovos, 6, 7: voc. τλῆμον, but ἰὼ τλήμων Soph. Aj. 8933; τλήμων ἄνερ Eur. Andr. 348: (*7Adw). Poét. Adj., used by Xen, (cf. τλῆμι), suffering, enduring, hence I. patient, stead- fast, stout-hearted, of Ulysses, Il. 10. 231, 498 (to whom a τλήμων θυμός is ascribed, 5. 670); ψυχὴν καὶ θυμὸν τλήμονα παρθέμενος Tyrt. 9.18; τλάμονι ψυχᾷ Pind. P. I. 93, cf. Elmsl. Heracl. 570; τλή- μων οὖσ᾽ am εὐτόλμου φρενός Aesch. Ag. 1302 ;—of patients, Aretae. Cur. M. Ac. 1. 4; TA. εἰς παιδείαν Id. Sign. M. Diut. 2. 6. 2. bold, daring, hardy, θαρσαλέοι καὶ τλ. 1]. 21. 430: and in bad sense, overbold, reckless, Lat. audax, Theogn. 196; τλάμονι καὶ πανούργῳ χειρί Aesch. Cho. 383, cf. 596; τλημονεστάτη γυνή Soph. El. 439, cf. 2753 ἐν τλάμονι θυμῷ (al. εὐτλάμονι) Eur. Med. 865. II. full of suffering, wretched, miserable, of persons, Aesch. Pr. 614, Soph. Ph. 161, etc.; so in Ar. Pax 723, Xen. An. 3.1, 29, Mem. 2. 1, 30; c. gen., ὦ τλάμων ὑμεναίων Eur. Hipp. 554; θανάτου τλήμων Ar. Thesm. 1072. 2. of conditions, acts, words, etc., τλήμονες φυγαί, τύχαι Eur. Hipp. 1177, H. F. 921; τλημονέστατος λόγος Id. Hec. 562; ὁδὸς τλημονεστάτη, τέρα, Id. Med. 1067, 8:—sometimes also, as we use wretched, in a disparaging sense, h. Hom. Merc. 296, Call. Epigr. 64. TIL. Adv. τλημόνως, patiently, Aesch. Cho. 748, Eur. Supp. 947, Tro. 40, etc. 2. miserably, Hesych. τληπάθεια, ἡ, -- ταλαιπωρία, Hierocl., Eccl.

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

  φρήν, 7, gen. φρενός, pl. φρένες, gen. φρενῶν, dat. φρεσί: Dor. φράν, dat. pl. pact, Pind., cf. Eust. 32. 14: (v. sub fin.) : I. pro- perly =the later word διάφραγμα, the midriff or muscle which parts the heart and lungs (viscera thoracis) from the lower viscera (abdomuinis), κραδία φρένα λακτίζει (Shaksp. ‘my seated heart knocks at my ribs’), Aesch. Pr. 881 ; but elsewhere always in pl., Hipp. Vet. Med. 18, Art. 807 ; Tas φρένας διάφραγμα és TO μέσον αὐτῶν (sc. τοῦ θώρακος καὶ τοῦ κύτους) τιθέντες Plat. Tim. 7γο Α ; τοῦτο δὲ τὸ διάζωμα καλοῦσί τινες φρένας, ὃ διορίζει τόν τε πνεύμονα καὶ τὴν καρδίαν Arist. G. A. 3. Io, 1, cf. H. A. 1.17, 8., 2. 15, 5 :—but, φρένες in the physical sense imply generally the parts about the heart, the breast, Lat. praecordia, ἔνθ᾽ dpa Te φρένες ἔρχαται ἀμφ᾽ ἀδινὸν κῆρ Il. 16. 481; ἐνὶ φρεσὶ μαίνεται ἦτορ 8. 413; and even the parts about the liver, πρὸς στῆθος ὅθι φρένες ἧπαρ ἔχουσι Od. 9. 301; often called φρένες ἀμφιμέλαιναι, 1]. 1. 103, al.; so, φρένας .. εἰς αὐτὰς τυπείς Aesch. Pr. 361, cf. Eum. 150. 2. the heart, as the seat of the passions, viz. of fear, τρομέοντο δέ of φρένες αὐτῷ Il. το. 10, cf. 22. 296; of joy and grief, φρένα τέρπεσθαι φόρμιγγι 9. 186; γάνυται φρένα ποιμήν 13. 493; ἄχος, πόνος φρένας ἀμφεκάλυψεν etc., Il., εἴς. ; φρένας ἵκετο πένθος, ἄχος πύκασε φρένας etc.; of love, Il. 3. 442; of anger, Od. 6. 147; of courage, ἕνα φρεσὶ θυμὸν ἔχοντες Il. 13. 487; ἐς φρένα θυμὸς ἀγέρθη 22. 475, cf. 8. 202, etc.; of bodily appetites, such as hunger, 11. 80 :—the shades of the dead therefore are without it, ψυχὴ καὶ εἴδω- λον, ἄταρ φρένες οὐκ ἐνὶ πάμπαν 23. 1043 it is however attributed to the shade of Teiresias, Od. 10. 493 :—so in Pind. and Att. Poets, δαιμό- νων θέλγει φρένας Pind. P. 1. 21; φόβος μ᾽ ἔχει φρένας Aesch. Supp. 379; μαινομένᾳ φρενί Id. Theb. 484; Διὸς γὰρ δυσπαραίτητοι φρ. Id. Pr. 34; ἐκ φρενός from one’s very heart, 6 &« φρενὸς λογός a hearty, cordial speech, Id. Cho. 107; ἐτύμως δακρυχέων ἐκ φρενός Id. Theb. 919; οὐκ dm ἄκρας φρενός not superficially and carelessly, Id. Ag. 805 ; φρενὸς ἐκ φιλίας Ib. 1515, cf. 546; φῦσαι φρένας to produce a haughty spirit, Soph. El. 1463. 3. the heart or mind, as the seat of the mental faculties, perception, thought, φρενὶ νοεῖν, φράζεσθαι, ἐπίστασθαι, etc., Il. 9. 600, etc.; μετὰ φρεσὶ μερμηρίζειν, βάλλεσθαι Od. το. 438, Il. 9. 4343 ἴδμεν ἐνὶ φρεσίν 2. 301; κατὰ φρένα εἰδέναι, γνῶναι, τιθέ- ναι τινί τι ἐπὶ φρεσί to put in his mind, suggest it, I. 55, etc.; ποιεῖν τι ἐνὶ φρεσίν 13.553 θέσθαι or βάλλεσθαί τι evi φρεσί 13. 121., 1. 297, etc.: hence also the phrases, φρένας τρέπειν, πείθειν, παραπείθειν, ἐπιγνάμπτειν 7. 120., 9.514, etc.:—so also in Pind. and Poets, much like νοῦς, ppevi ὀρθᾷ, ἐλευθερᾷ Pind. O. 8. 31, P. 2. 1053 μιᾷ φρενί Aesch. Eum. 986; φρένες yap αὐτοῦ θυμὸν οἰακοστρόφουν Id, Pers. 767 ; ἡ γλῶσσ᾽ ὀμώμοχ᾽, ἡ δὲ φρὴν ἀνώμοτος Eur. Hipp. 612; and so on; we also have joined, κατὰ φρένα καὶ κατὰ θυμόν, as in Lat. mens ani- musque, Il. 1. 193, etc.; (cf. φρένας ἔχων καὶ νοῦν, Ar. Ran. 535) 3— hence men lose their φρένες, i.e. their wits, περὶ φρένας ἤλυθε οἶνος Od. 9. 362, cf. 454., 18. 831; πλήγη φρένας as πάρος εἶχεν 1]. 13. 3943 ἐκ yap πλήγη φρένας τό. 403; Ζεὺς βλάπτε φρένας ἡμετέρας 15. 724 (whence βχαψίφρων, ppevoBdraBns) ; θεοὶ φρένας ὥλεσαν 8. 360; φρένας ἄφρων, φρένας ἠλέ or ἠλεέ 15. 128, Od. 2. 243 :---80, in Att., of those

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

  I. absol. to flee, take flight, run away, opp. to διώκω, Il. 22. 157, etc.; βῆ φεύγων ἐπὶ πόντον 2. 665 ; πῆ φεύγεις ; 8.94; πόσε φεύγετε; 16. 422; ποῖ φύγωμεν χθονός ; Aesch. Supp. 777; ποῖ τίς ἂν φύγῃ ; Soph. Aj. 403, etc.; φ. ἐνθένδε ἐκεῖσε Plat. Theaet. 176 A ;—with Preps., φ. ἀπό τινος Od. 12. 120, Plat., etc.; &« πολέμοιο, éx θανάτοιο Il. 7. 118., 20. 350; ἐκ κακῶν Soph. Ant. 437, cf. Hdt. 1.65; ὑπὲκ κακοῦ Il, 15. 700, cf. 17. 461; rarely c. gen. only, πεφυγμένος ἣεν ἀέθλων (ν. infr. 11) Od. 1. 18; τῆς νόσου πεφευγέναι Soph. Ph. 1044 ; —>. és πατρίδα γαῖαν Il. 2. 140, cf. 158, etc.; ἐπὶ Σάρδεων, ἐπὶ τὸν “Ἑλικῶνα Xen. Cyr. 7. 2, 1, Ages. 2, 11; πρὸς τὸ ὄρος Id. Hell. 3.5, 19; ὑπὸ γᾶν Aesch. Eum. 175; φ. ὑπό τινος to flee before him, Il. 21. 23, 554, V. infr. 111. 2):—c. acc. cogn., φύγε λαιψηρὸν δρόμον ran the course full swiftly, Pind. P. 9. 215; φεύγειν φυγήν Eur. Hel. 1041; φ. τὴν παρὰ θάλασσαν (sc. ὁδόν) to flee toward the sea, Hdt. 4. 12 ; cf. infr. ΤΠ; —also, φυγῇ φεύγειν, v. φυγή τ. τ. 2. the pres. and impf. tenses properly express only the purpose or endeavour to flee: hence the part. φεύγων is added to the compd. Verbs droped yw, ἐκφεύγω, προφεύγω, to distinguish the attempt from the accomplishment of the flight, βέλτερον, ὡς φεύγων προφύγῃ κακὸν ἠὲ ἅλώῃ it is better that one should flee and escape than stay and be caught, Il. 14. 81; φεύγων exp. Hdt. 5. 95, Ar. Ach. 177; . καταφ. Hdt. 4. 23; φ. ἄποφ. Ar. Nub. 167; cf. Pors. Phoen. 1231. 3. φ. εἰς .. to have recourse to .., take refuge in.., Eur. Hipp. 1076. 4. c. inf. to shun or be shy of doing, shrink from doing, Hdt. 4. 76, Antipho 112. 44, Plat. Apol. 26 A ; and with the inf. omitted, φεύγουσι yap τοι χοὶ θρασεῖς shrink back, Soph. Ant. 580 :— the inf. often has a seemingly pleonast. μή put with it, like all Verbs con- taining or implying a negation, as in Soph. Ant. 263, cf. Heind. Plat. Parm. 147 A, Soph. 235 B. IT. c. acc. to flee, i.e. to shun, avoid, escape, τινά Hom., etc.; φ. τινὰ ἐκ μάχης Hdt.7. 104; φ. ἐς τὴν ᾿Ασίην τοὺς Σκύθας Id. 4.12: also φ. τι, 45 φ. μοῖραν, ὄλεθρον, πόλεμον, κακόν 1]. 6. 488, al.; ἐνθ᾽ ἄλλοι μὲν πάντες ὅσοι φύγον αἰπὺν ὄλεθρον, οἴκοι ἔσαν πόλεμόν τε πεφευγότες ἠδὲ θάλασσαν Od. I. 11 ; so, φ. ὄνειδος, ἀμα- χανίαν Pind. O. 6. 152, P. 9. 163; φ. φόνον to flee the consequences of the murder, Eur. Med. 795; φ. αἷμα συγγενὲς χθονός Id.Supp.148; φ. τὰν Διὸς μῆτιν Aesch. Pr. 907; ὀσμὴν .., μὴ βάλῃ, πεφευγότες Soph. Ant. 412; φυγῇ φεύγειν γῆρας Plat. Symp. 195 Β; ἐς πόντον .. φύγε πέτρας νηῦς Od. το.

• From Healing Our Broken Humanity: Practices for Revitalizing the Church and Renewing the World (2018)

  As her daughter, I always thought my mother was not afraid of anything. But as soon as she was diagnosed, with tears gushing out, we all recognized that she was afraid. My mother was terrified of dying. Her fear continued through the last six months of her life. A close friend who was a minister came to the hospital to offer prayers for my mother. He wanted to pray alone with my mom, so he asked my sister and me to leave the hospital bed. After some time he finished and said that we could all rejoin my mother. The minister had done some “self-emptying prayer.” The minister prayed that my mother could empty herself and give up her power and allow the Spirit to come in. It was clear that my mother gave up her power and allowed the Spirit to move. She was finally at peace, and the fear was gone from her eyes. She passed away peacefully two weeks later. There are many ways of giving up power and different kinds of power. Part of relinquishing our power, whatever it may be, is to surrender ourselves to the power of the Spirit, who moves us, empowers us, and gives us new life. After giving everything up, Paul spoke of the power he discovered in Jesus Christ. This is the power of Jesus’ resurrection. It is the power of “participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead” (Phil 3:10-11 ). Are you struggling to relinquish power for the sake of Christ and others? Paul talks of his own struggle to give all this up for the sake of Christ. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Phil 3:12-14 ) Relinquishing power (and giving up our confidence in the flesh) isn’t natural or easy. But the Spirit of Christ enables us. Practices, Challenges, and Activities for Small GroupsHere is a small group simulation game to help your group think about relinquishing power. We have also offered a practice for conference and panel organizers and speakers. Both will help you embrace the practice of relinquishment. Stop organizing all–white male panels and conferences, and stop speaking at them. If we are truly the church of Jesus Christ, why are we excluding so many groups from meaningful contribution? We can’t tell you how often we look at a conference and panel lineup and think, “Where are the women speakers?

• From From Judgment to Hope: A Study on the Prophets (2019)

  say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God.” 40:9 The declaration, “Here is your God” is an assertion that after a long season of absence YHWH is back in play. When YHWH takes such an initiative, the imperial power of Babylon and its gods are helpless to resist. In the Realpolitik of the time, that newness came to expression as the rise of Persia (Iran) in the East under the leadership of Cyrus, who, in 45:1, is termed by YHWH as “my messiah.” Given that turn in geopolitics and given the new prospects of the Persian Empire, the dislocated persons from Jerusalem are now permitted to go home after a long season of displacement (see 2 Chr. 36:22–23). Thus the poetry reflects changed political circumstance but voices it theologically as a turn in the intent of YHWH. The task of the poet is to provide his displaced listeners news of the changed theological reality that is reflected in changed political circumstance. No doubt the force of Babylonian rule and the attractiveness of the Babylonian economy had caused many Jews to settle and to regard Babylon as the context for their life and faith. The poet, however, summons his listeners to the joyous and arduous alternative of return to the city of Jerusalem. The poet utilizes a number of rhetorical strategies to recruit his listeners into the prospect of homecoming. A series of “salvation oracles” are issued on behalf of YHWH that tell the people not to fear: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. 43:1; see 41:10, 14; 43:5; 44:8 It was fear of and submission to the power of Babylon that blocked the possibility of discerning YHWH’s new resolve in the world. The overcoming of fear, accomplished by articulation of the gospel, was designed to liberate exilic Israel from the grip of imperial ideology, and so to evoke the awareness of an historical possibility outside the domain of imperial ideology. The poet imagines a great cosmic courtroom in which there is a trial to determine who the real god is. Babylonian gods are invited to offer evidence of their divinity, that is, their power; but they offer no such evidence (41:22–23). The inescapable verdict is that they are nothing, not to be feared, honored, or obeyed (41:24). By contrast, YHWH cites as evidence of the transformative capacity that YHWH has “stirred up” Cyrus, the Persian, who has initiated the radical transformation of international politics (41:25). The conclusion to which the poem drives is that those who listen to the poet, exilic Israel, can observe that their submission to Babylon is out of step with reality, because the singularly effective reality is the God who will bring them home.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  “You know, Father, probably, like I said, he got out of town as soon as he ran away from the girl.” That was an immense, shirtless creature, shaven skull, mat-chested, whose boots thumped the wharf boards and whose voice sounded like a rasp doing something to rock. And he was swinging a rifle against his hip. “But, Sheriff, we can’t take any chance! We just can’t allow a beast like that to roam our streets, attacking women. If you had seen what that monster had done to the poor, poor child.” That was the priest! “If you had seen!” “You just point him out to me, and I’ll blow his fuckin’ head off—excuse me, Father. But I’m just saying I don’t think it’s very likely you will.” “If he isn’t down here by the docks, Sheriff, I think we can probably assume you’re right. They’ll catch him in one of the towns along the coast here. I just hope they get him before he kills some other innocent creature.” Horror struck through Robby like long crystals forming. He pulled back against the wall as they passed the alley entrance. And almost gagged again. “When we work our way down to the end of the docks, then I’m afraid you’ll have to turn me loose. I promised I’d do some work for Proctor before the night was up. He needs me.” They passed beyond his vision. Robby ran down the narrow street. His shirt was a cold tongue lapping his chest. His pant leg went flap, flap. He tried to run close to the wall. Small streets kept emptying him onto bigger ones. He would turn off them again, ducking down behind wooden fences— Two, ahead of him in workmen’s greens: white and black; he recognized them in the lamp light, and froze. They were laughing, and the white one was elbowing the black one over some stupendous joke. They stopped, looked around. Robby wasn’t breathing, sure that they had seen him, not knowing why he should fear if they did, but fearing it more than anything. Then there was an unfamiliar voice. A figure vaulted over the fence. Robby ground his flank on the wall. “Where the hell you two guys been? I’ve been huntin’ all over.” “Tearin’ up a little cunt down in front of St. Mark’s,” Nig said. “Redheaded whore. Shit, she had some mouth-fillin’ pussy,” Dove said. A black-haired man, a leather jacket open on a naked chest. And a chain around his neck with a black swastika, silver rimmed: “Bull said he thought it was you two. Look, you better come with me.” “What for, Nazi?” “Whyn’t you come with us, Nazi? We still out huntin’.” “Proctor needs you.” “Oh.” Then, “Maybe we better go.” The three hurried away.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  He turned his head. A dragon of tarnished bronze writhed about the candle stub that guttered and flapped its light through the room. A tiny screeching over metal: He jerked around to stare at the bird cage. It wasn’t a bird inside. All his muscles contracted. The back of his hand dragged more grit. Claws ticked the floor. He jerked up. The dog waited. His body shrank from the beast. The only thing his mind could touch were new facets of fear. It is a big dog. On the wall the carcass of a horse fell apart. Crouching in the livid cage, he, distorted, pawed between her legs. She, grotesque, flopped his gross cock from thigh to thigh. It stayed limp. Flames sputtered about the protecting ribs. Skull and fore-hooves pawed and wagged before the infernal sea where six feet dangled. The dog sprang. Robby screamed. Nothing hit. The black cock and balls rolled off its brass plate, slipped from the table, and flopped to the floor. Where it fell, blood inched the wood. He snatched his hand away. Jerked again because teeth clicked. Dog breath lanced his ear. He fell on his belly and began to cry. His cheek slipped on puddled blood. The dog barked. As he flailed out, the light went insane. Three candles fell from the window sill. He pulled back, expecting the floor to fire. Two went out. He got to his feet. The blood patch burned, flames half an inch above the bright surface as though it were kerosene. He looked at his right hand, which was in pain. Two drops of hot wax dulled on his skin. The creature in the cage scraped its claws on the bars. He slapped at the puddle. Fire splashed. The whole floor was pocked with amethysts. His hand stung. He scraped at the spots, to pry up the wax scales with his thumb nail. His hand fell off. His wrist spurted fire. He whirled, waving fire. Fire hit the cage bars. The creature inside shrieked. The bars sagged, dribbled away. The thing leaped, clawing and shrieking, on pale green wings. It walked across the floor on its hind legs, foreclaws scraping at the ceiling beams. Its wings masked out the door behind it. The forelegs thumped down. The dog ran to grovel between them. It yawned hugely on flame-colored gums, reared again. Clawed toes splayed in ashes. Amethysts glittered between its talons. The wings made a wind that tugged his hair. The candles about the room roared. And the tarnished dragon was crawling from around the mash of wax to the table’s edge. The floor was cluttered with emeralds and cut spinel besides. On knees and one hand, he crawled the points. Then his hand mashed something soft. He reared back from the crushed flesh. The dog had gotten to its feet again, chin and underbelly flickering in the floor’s litter.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  With darkness, she couldn’t even move. She shivered, and her body wouldn’t do any of the things she wanted. Trying, now, only to avoid pain, realized she had been thinking, Maybe he won’t hurt me anymore if I cooperate, though she already hurt between her legs where he had pinched her. He was pulling her panties down. And with his hands on her belly he moved down against her. “Feed papa all that pretty pussy.” That, mumbled into her. She reached down and caught hold of his hair, not to get him away, but to keep from falling. She felt numb, and his face slipping in her numbness. He was squeezing her buttocks. She thought: Why am I thinking; if I don’t move maybe he won’t— “Hey, there, pretty baby. How about some of that pussy for me? Dove boy, you got it all set?” She skinned her hand on dried paint and tried to kick the one on his knees. Because the second one was coming at her. He was black and his pants were open. The white one pulled back his head. “Come on, Nig. Swing that black mother-fucker around here.” She felt herself start to collapse. (She cannot fight. Watch her beautiful fear. I will not let her fight.) The black one caught her by the shoulders and slammed her on the door. “Open your mouth, bitch! Lemme get some tongue.” She cried and tried to keep her teeth together. Only the sobs pried them open from behind, and his tongue from the front; suddenly she hissed because of what the second one did with four fingers between her legs. When she moved her arms he hurt them with his hands that could go all the way around. Her thighs shook against Dove’s cheek. He turned away, and Nig’s cock hit his face (Nig’s legs leaned across his back). He ducked and reached up to feel the hot, rough sack with its wiry hair, bitter with her. Sweat, and the stench of (his own) shit; to touch it with the tip of his tongue. With his hand he guided the wide head. Dove grunted when she began to squirm hard against what he was pushing in her. He bit her thigh when she tried to yank aside, so he could push it in another inch. Now Nig jammed too. “Suck on my balls while I dick this pussy, boy,” growled from above. Dove nosed the balls, ministered with tongue and fingers to the plunging junction. He held their legs till Nig’s thighs clamped his head. Which meant get out of the way. He came up, tired. Her arms hung on Nig’s neck. Dove leaned on the wall and watched Nig convulse in her. Once he stuck his hand between their slapping bellies, fingered the slippery thickness, put two fingers into her, then, with his wet hand, kneaded the hairy bag.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  That is because he is saying things that he has said before to other people, and the artist smiles, nods, makes explanations of complicity or indignation in the places where other people have, and it is reassuring. Occasionally Robby finds his eyes suddenly snatched away from the sympathetic face by some trick of a candle on the paintings, and chills clutch along his nerves. Still, Proctor listens like any ordinary man. “You seem a lot better,” Proctor, finally. “Perhaps you can go now.” “Oh,” Robby, warily. “Yeah, I guess I should.” He stands, a little shakily. “Thanks. For the coffee.” At the bottom step he realizes how cold it is. And the pressure on his bladder. Leaning one hand against the wall, he urinates, occasionally looking up to see if anybody is coming. Down the street, toward the harbor, there is mist. He starts for the coiling fogs. A sound makes him look back. A black dog has come around the corner, has stopped by the door frame. He laps the puddle by the wall. He looks up, panting, drops his head again. Robby puts his hands in his pockets to stop the terror that begins at the base of his spine, and hurries toward the wharf. Sambo’s cock came out of her ass, and she was left sucking Dove deep, and the smell of his groin, and her fingers pressing brass hair, and the smell of the water around the boat. The smell of fog, the rocking around them, Her tongue played him, troweled beneath the foreskin, and as she felt the boy’s father’s juice dripping down the back of her leg, she drank the son’s first gout, and let it wash about the cylinder as he spilled in her. Later, when she thought they were asleep, Kirsten went to the rail and looked at the ordered arc of moons the dock lights made in the fog. The night poured its damp smokes over the water. She heard bare feet behind her on the wet deck. Nig grinned at her. His shirt hung open, his left hand held his balls. His cock angled like a piece of the night between the fallen flaps of his pants. His right reached for her smock hem. He put his other arm, now, around her shoulder, brushed his lips on her cheek, mumbling, “. . . Hey, sweet pussy . . . oh yeah, some shitty pussy . . . ain’t this little blonde whore got some hot ole nasty pussy . . .” There was the smell of old effort, and on that new effort bloomed. He moved his fingers back and forth in her.

• From The Tides of Lust (1973)

  Then, “Maybe we better go.” The three hurried away. Robby felt the bonds with which he gripped what he knew as real begin to loosen. “Bull,” and he had remembered their description of the lawman. They were searching for him: And the man with the gun who searched for him thought him innocent! He thrilled with unresolvable terror. Turning left, turning right, he ran the labyrinthine alleys, turning again, and turning, now recognizing houses he had passed before, now passing strange porches, fences, windows. At the cafe, he ducked into the alley, keeping near the wall. Something caught his ankle. He staggered. As he turned to see, it jerked him again; he fell, scraping his palms on brick. A hand, from between the bars, had grasped his leg, was hauling him back. He grabbed the window edge to push himself away. A second hand came out and caught his wrist. He kicked, jerked, with his throat constricted so that the sound trying to push out was a gurgle. “Let me . . . let me out,” rasped from the window. “They forgot to let me out! Proctor needs me!” He kicked his leg free, tore scabby fingers from his wrist; then he was running. Slapped at a wall to keep from banging into it, and ran again. The small street dumped him out on the square. He came up short, thirty feet before the dark stones. There was no wind. Shadowed carvings took his eyes upward to the steeple, to lose his vision on crazed, moon-lined clouds, uncurling. There was no wind at all in the street. Something moved on the church steps. He looked. Uncurling, the black shape rose to its feet; barked. The dog cantered down the steps, paused at the bottom, barked again. Robby ran. The paws clicked after him; whatever was solid in him melted and flowed, lost edges and became terror. On a strange street, he turned, grabbed the side of a doorway to keep from falling. It stood on the corner. Its eye was red glass. Its tongue was foamy meat, shaking over barbs. The tail whipped the night. He closed his eyes, shook his head. Looked back. It still stared. Then it took three steps. His stomach and thighs jerked him to a crouch. His palms stung. The dog (it is a big dog) trotted into the street. It closed its mouth for a swallow he could hear. The tongue shook out again, shook, shook. He thought about walking away, just turning and— The dog barked, sagged back to spring, rushed forward. He fell in the doorway, rolled over and clambered up the gritty steps. There was another door at the top. He dove through; curled up and rolled. Claws scrabbled on the steps. His teeth were clenched too tight to scream. Shoulder, arm and hip were bruised. He waited and didn’t breathe. He realized he was waiting. And realized there was only silence to wait through.