Skip to content


 the law stares across the desk out of angry eyes his face reddens in splotches like a gobbler’s neck with the strut of the power of submachineguns sawedoffshotguns teargas and vomitinggas the power that can feed you or leave you to starve

 sits easy at his desk his back is covered he feels strong behind him he feels the prosecutingattorney the judge an owner himself the political boss the minesuperintendent the board of directors the president of the utility the manipulator of the holdingcompany

 he lifts his hand towards the telephone

 the deputies crowd in the door

 we have only words against

—John Dos Passos, The Big Money