One would have said that he was hesitating between the two abysses,—the one in which one loses one's self and that in which one saves one's self. He seemed prepared to crush that skull or to kiss that hand.

“So probably men led to execution clutch mentally at every object that meets them on the way,”

I had atoned for the dozens of close calls that always left someone else injured or dead, while I emerged from the scenes of mayhem unscathed, pictures in hand, having committed the crime of being the lucky voyeur.