In the love of duality, the foolish people have forgotten the Lord's Name; they shall receive their punishment. They never think of the One who gave them body and soul, who provides sustenance to all. The noose of death shall not be cut away from their necks; they shall come and go in reincarnation over and over again.
Sri Guru Granth Sahib
Those who fought know a secret about themselves, and it is not very nice. They have experienced secretly and privately their natural human impulse towards sadism and brutality ... Not only did I learn to kill with a noose of piano wire put around someone's neck from behind, but I learned to enjoy the prospect of killing that way.
Yes, victors are our strongest. They're the ones who survived the arena and slipped the noose of poverty that strangles the rest of us. They, or should I say we, are the very embodiment of hope where there is no hope. And now twenty-three of us will be killed to show how even that hope was an illusion.
When I was little, my friends would gush over wedding gowns and honeymoons. But I saw too many people flush decades together down the toilet over money or kids or meaningless flings. My own parents chose to stay married, which I think is rather funny, since they show about as much affection for each other as pit bulls in a ring. Tying the knot means slipping a noose around love and choking it to death.
Young writers if they are to mature require a period of between three and seven years in which to live down their promise. Promise is like the mediaeval hangman who after settling the noose, pushed his victim off the platform and jumped on his back, his weight acting a drop while his jockeying arms prevented the unfortunate from loosening the rope. When he judged him dead he dropped to the ground.
ONCE I LOCK YOU UP, YOU CAN'T GET LOOSE YOU STUCK YOUR HEAD INSIDE AND I PLACED THE NOOSE THE MIC DRIPS JUICE SLOW FROM THE STEEL MESH MY WORDS FEEL LIKE HOOKS UNDERNEATH YOUR FLESH MAKIN' YOU TWIST AND TURN, SCORCH AND BURN WHEN WILL YOU LEARN? THE NINTIES ARE MY TURN TO PITCH A VOCAL FIT LIKE THE ULTIMATE GANGSTER RHYME YO, I INVENTED THE SHIT
We simply cannot continue to live with a [tax] system which has so many inequities. It must be changed in such a way that each of us pays a fair share of the burden. It has been said that one man's loophole is another man's livelihood. Even if this is true, it certainly is not fair, because the loophole-livelihood of those who are reaping undeserved benefits can be the economic noose of those who are paying more than they should.
Sri Lanka is our country. Our culture, our race, our people. Sometimes we forget this, forget that greatness can also be achieved in our Motherland. Our Motherland, what it means to us and how we can make it better. We chase that elusive dream, the white picket fenced house, which is not ours, some white-man in the west goes to sleep and wakes up thinking about it. And we foolishly dream his dream. When can we ever shred the noose of our colonial masters?
For each man kills the thing he loves yet each man does not die he does not die a death of shame on a day of dark disgrace nor have a noose about his neck, nor a cloth upon his face nor drop feet foremost through the floor into an empty space He does not sit with silent men who watch him night and day Who watch him when he tries to weep and when he tries to pray Who watch him lest himself should rob the prison of its prey
What an unreliable thing is time-when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair... But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.
What an unreliable thing is time--when I want it to fly, the hours stick to me like glue. And what a changeable thing, too. Time is the twine to tie our lives into parcels of years and months. Or a rubber band stretched to suit our fancy. Time can be the pretty ribbon in a little girl's hair. Or the lines in your face, stealing your youthful colour and your hair. .... But in the end, time is a noose around the neck, strangling slowly.
Hell is a library, " she said, tightening her fresh knot. "That really doesn't sound bad, Julia." "That's because I'm not finished. Hell is a library of books containing every word you've ever said, and videotapes of everything you've ever done." "So what. Do you have to watch them?" "No, you don't have to. But would you be able to help yourself? It would be unbearable. I couldn't resist, but I would hate myself after." She gave the noose two good, hard tugs. "Plus, even if you could resist the temptation, you'd eventually get so bored that you'd do anything. And the only thing to read is stuff that you've said and the only thing to do is watch yourself.
One morning, in cool blood, I slipped a noose about its neck and hung it to the limb of a tree; "" hung it with the tears streaming from my eyes, and with the bitterest remorse at my heart; "" hung it because I knew that it had loved me, and because I felt it had given me no reason of offence; "" hung it because I knew that in so doing I was committing a sin "" a deadly sin that would so jeopardize my immortal soul as to place it "" if such a thing were possible "" even beyond the reach of the infinite mercy of the Most Merciful and Most Terrible God.
Edgar Allan Poe
I BEEN HAD THE JUICE! I'M BACK ONCE AGAIN AND GOT NOTHING TO LOSE BUT GOT SOMETHING TO PROVE MAN SO YA'LL BETTER MOVE! I DON'T TRUST NONE OF YOU BOYS BUT YOU KNOW IM THE TRUTH AND I'M THE NUMERO UNO IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER I'M NEVER GONE SETTLE FOR DEUCE! I'M BREAKING LOOSE! YALL BETTER DUCK I BEEN SIPPIN THAT GOOSE AND I COME TO MAKE WAR NOT A TRUCE FUCK WHO THEY FEELIN'! FUCK WHO THEY BUMPIN' I'LL HANG THAT SHIT UP BY A NOOSE MAN I SWEAR I'LL KILL ALL OF THESE RAPPERS WITH THIS TAPE ALONE EVERYTHING WRITTEN IN STONE AND I GOT IT THEY SAY THEY COME FOR THE THRONE BUT I DOUBT IT I NEVER GO NOWHERE WITHOUT IT LIL HOMIE WE BOUT IT
Crooked Warden, I will fear no darkness for the night is yours, " muttered Locke, pointing the first two fingers of his left hand into the darkness. The Dagger of the Thirteenth, a thief's gesture against evil. "Your night is my cloak, my shield, my escape from those who hunt to feed the noose. I will fear no evil, for you have made the night my friend." "Bless the Benefactor, " said Jean, squeezing Locke's left forearm. "Peace and profit to his children.
Crooked Warden, I will fear no darkness for the night is yours," muttered Locke, pointing the first two fingers of his left hand into the darkness. The Dagger of the Thirteenth, a thief's gesture against evil. "Your night is my cloak, my shield, my escape from those who hunt to feed the noose. I will fear no evil, for you have made the night my friend." "Bless the Benefactor," said Jean, squeezing Locke's left forearm. "Peace and profit to his children.
According to one account of the New York City schools during the 1950s: The teacher could not technically hit the child, but the old crones found ways of skirting the rules. The push-probe-pull method was popular, in which the teacher would not hit you, but would poke you with her gnarled, witch-like fingers and grab your face like a taffy pull until you screamed. ... The pull-and-choke was also a favorite. It was executed by pulling the compulsory necktie up like a noose, until the errant boy's face turned the school colors.
What is going to happen to the Aurorans?" "They are prisoners of war, " Albion said. "I should imagine they will be set to work at the base of the Spire." Grimm tightened his jaw. "No, sir." "No?" "No, sir, " Grimm said. "I've seen that place. You might as well tie a noose around their necks and stand them on blocks of ice, if you want them to die a slow death. It will be cleaner." "I'm not sure why this concerns you, Captain, " Albion said. "Because they surrendered to me, " Grimm said. "They gave me their parole, sir. They could have fought on with no real chance of victory, and it would have been bloody. But that surrender saved blood and lives of Albions and Aurorans alike. I will not see Captain Castillo repaid with such churlish treatment.
Above all, be at ease, be as natural and spacious as possible. Slip quietly out of the noose of your habitual anxious self, release all grasping, and relax into your true nature. Think of your ordinary emotional, thought-ridden self as a block of ice or a slab of butter left out in the sun. If you are feeling hard and cold, let this aggression melt away in the sunlight of your meditation. Let peace work on you and enable you to gather your scattered mind into the mindfulness of Calm Abiding, and awaken in you the awareness and insight of Clear Seeing. And you will find all your negativity disarmed, your aggression dissolved, and your confusion evaporating slowly like mist into the vast and stainless sky of your absolute nature.
Being a hangman requires you to take someone else's life based on someone else's judgment, and carry it out on someone else's schedule. The job does not provide the same satisfaction that an ordinary murderer gets from smashing a skull. It robs them of the fulfillment of plunging a knife into someone's throat. In the world of capital punishment, the prisoner's crimes have been sanitized by years of sitting on death row. By then, the execution is a cold and impersonal affair. There is prayer, a noose, and a few last words. The prisoner then experiences a sudden rush of blood to the head. At the end of it all, you have a broken neck and a dead body swinging from the end of a rope. That is it. You don't get to manhandle them with your own hands. That's why the brutes you mention will never be hired. So you see, Vaida, this is not a job for a murderer. It is a job for a humanitarian.
Taona Dumisani Chiveneko
THINGS AIN'T THE SAME, STRESS, I COULD FEEL IT IN MY VEINS I NEEDED TO GET AWAY, THAT'S JUST STRAIGHT PLAYIN' I'M TIRED OF BEIN' DOWN IN THE BOTTOM WITH THE RATS WHERE THEY'LL GET YOU FOR YA CHEESE, GOTTA WATCH FOR THE STICKY TRAPS IN FACT, THAT'S THE REASON WHY I RAP THAT BETTER THAN PULLIN' A TRIGGER, THE RESULT OF A NIGGA BEIN' FLAT Y'ALL AIN'T BEEN TOE-TO-TOE IN DUE TIME FUCK YEAH, I'M TIRED OF WAITIN' ON MY SHINE I DONE START UP MY SIX, GOT RETARDED UP BY TEN FIVE YEARS LATE AGAIN, DEF JAM IS INTERESTED AND I'M HOT CAUSE I'M LIVIN' AND GIVIN' MY ALL, SPITTIN' IT JUST FOR RECORD EXECUTIVES TO TELL ME THEY'RE NOT DIGGIN' IT DOG, CAN'T BELIEVE MY EARS, MY SOUL, MY PRIDE I'M SORRY, THEM PUTTIN' THE HUNT AGAIN I CAN'T, I WON'T, SAY CAN'T, SAY WON'T I'M A SADDAM THESE NIGGAZ, NOOSE, HANG 'EM FROM THEY THROAT
Affraig's eyes moved to the oak tree that towered above her, its branches like antlers against the white sky. Her gaze travelled up to the weathered web that hung from one of the higher boughs, the slender noose swinging inside. In her mind she saw herself weaving it while she chanted words against Malachy's wrathful curse. She remembered the lord's hand settling on her shoulder, the hiss of the fire, his breath on her neck and, outside, stars falling like fiery rain. Her gaze moved west towards Turnberry. Her memory clouded with thoughts of the earl, but as she thought of his son her mind cleared. The stars had been falling too on the night he was born. She remembered seeing Mars, full and red, a bloody eye winking in the black.
Stand here, he thought, and count the lighted windows of a city. You cannot do it. But behind each yellow rectangle that climbs, one over another, to the sky - under each bulb - down to there, see that spark over the river which is not a star? - there are people whom you will never see and who are your masters. At the supper tables, in the drawing rooms, in their beds and in their cellars, in their studies and in their bathrooms. Speeding in the subways under your feet. Crawling up in elevators through vertical cracks around you. Jolting past you in every bus. Your masters, Gail Wynand. There is a net - longer than the cables that coil through the walls of this city, larger than the mesh of pipes that carry water, gas and refuse - there is another hidden net around you; it is strapped to you, and the wires lead to every hand in the city. They jerked the wires and you moved. You were a ruler of men. You held a leash. A leash is only a rope with a noose at both ends.
As I said, I don't expect you to understand-' 'And I don't, ' he cut in. 'Ye ask how I can live a life that I know will end with the hangman's noose. Well, at least I am alive. Ye might as well have climbed inside yer husband's coffin and let yerself be buried with his corpse.' Her hand flashed out before she'd thought about it, the smack against his cheek loud in the little courtyard. Silence had her eyes locked with Michael's, her chest rising and falling swiftly, but she was aware that Bert and Harry had looked up. Even Mary and Lad had paused in their play. Without taking his gaze from hers, Michael reached out and grasped her hand. He raised her hand to his lips and softly kissed the center of her palm. He looked at her, her hand still at his lips. 'Don't take to yer grave afore yer time, Silence, m'love.
It is a measure of a nation their cunning! It is a measure of a nation their strength! And it is a measure of a nation, " I leaned forward and screeched, "their mercy!" I leaned back and surveyed the crowd and for some bizarre reason kept right on shouting. The condemned you see before you have been tried justly and meet their sentence fairly. They have done wrong and they will pay for it. But I am not the Winter Princess of a nation who does not see that even the condemned deserve to be treated with respect as they face death. You may think they do not deserve it but it is your duty as Lunwynians to rise above their actions not fall to their depths. They will hang for their crimes and you will watch this sentence carried out.How could that not be enough for you?" I tore my eyes away from the now whispering crowd as those close sent my words far, feeling Frey's arm still tight around my middle but I ignored it and looked down at the scaffold. Bring her to her feet, ' I ordered the guardstanding around Viola and they shifted andstared up at me in stupefaction so I snapped, ' Bring her to her feet! 'They jumped toward Viola who I avoidedlooking at as they helped her up and movedher to her noose. Instead, I looked back tothe crowd and, yep, you guessed it, kept right on shouting. "Today, you witness something infinitely sad. Three people who have gone wrong somewhere in their lives, done wrong be-cause of it and therefore are paying the ulti-mate price. Do not stand there shouting and jeering, demonstrating that they were right to move against this great nation, those for-tunate enough to inhabit her ice-bound earth and those privileged to wear her crowns.Stand there and, as the Lunwynians I know you to be, stand strong, stand proud and stand filled with mercy.