O'shaughnessy Quotes

We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.

We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams. World-losers and world-forsakers, Upon whom the pale moon gleams; Yet we are the movers and shakers, Of the world forever, it seems.

I don’t like anything pointing at me, dollface, that includes an umbrella, a finger, or a gun, got it?

I’ll tell the Chief and he’ll squash you like the little flea-ridden castrated cock you are.

Listen, you might as well learn now that life’s nothin’ but a dirt sandwich and save yourself a lot of time.

She’s a cop’s wife. She understands what her husband does for a living,” the priest said.

A uniformed cop around 6’4” with pock marked face squinted, “Looky here, if it ain’t one a the bad seed O’Shaughnessy’s, female version.

Maeve O’Shaughnessy was one of those Americans, influenced by national hero and Nazi sympathizer Charles Lindbergh, who had been against becoming involved in the war.

With Finn, Vic, and Maeve shooting darts at him, Buster thought better of bellyaching and took off down the street with Finn.

When those we care about are weakest, that’s when we must be strong for them.

You can use all the hundred dollar words you want,” said Vic, “women like that are like TNT. You go after their man, they’d sooner kill you than look at you.

The children glanced at her for a moment but then kept their heads down and eyes on their food. They were used to ignoring the drama that happened right in front of them. No one spoke. Exhaustion had set in, mentally and physically.

Jimmy’s dog tag clinked as he almost slid right into her. Teenagers wore dog tags in case New York was bombed and they needed to be identified if killed or injured. Mrs. McCorkle, the O’Shaughnessy’s immediate next door neighbor, had insisted on a dog tag for Jimmy.

Brigid O'Shaughnessy: “I haven't lived a good life. I've been bad, worse than you could know.” Sam Spade “You know, that's good, because if you actually were as innocent as you pretend to be, we'd never get anywhere

It was all about the G.I.s overseas. As the war became more of a reality and blue stars on windows were turning to gold stars indicating a soldier’s death, the tensions at home were increasing. Giving what little they could for the war effort was often an act of desperation. Some people made pacts with God to bring their men home hoping beyond hope that it made a difference.

The filigreed iron gates of the Navy Yard were open wide between two pillars that featured large spread-winged eagles on orbs. Men were standing around as women came out together in their overalls after their shifts. Before the war women didn’t work at the Navy Yard, but with men joining up or drafted and a new campaign with a poster of 'Rosie the Riveter' it did its job encouraging woman to work outside the home for the war effort.

A real hero doesn't expect to be thanked or even recognized.

He used his large shoulders and movements to impose his dominance over others as he strutted around but his facial expressions were a giveaway to people like Maeve who was born into a gritty group of native born fighting Irish. While many saw him as a man who worked his way up to power and influence and attained success that others fail to achieve, she saw him as a sham. He didn’t acquire loyalty by goodwill, but by corruption, fear, and loathing.

During the Depression of the 1930s everyone suffered, even the rich. It was hard times for all and people helped each other if they could. Americans coming through that together meant something. Now they were being asked to struggle again. But because so many servicemen were killed at Pearl Harbor, Americans had a cause that they all shared – fight the Fascists and keep the threat and the war from coming home. Yet, now the grim reality, the depths of the sacrifices, and the grief of their losses was devastating.

What the American people didn’t know was how aggressive the government was in protecting our defenses and creating weapons. FDR had already secretly approved the Manhattan Project to build an atomic bomb. And the government saw the waterfront as vital to our defenses. They feared that spies or other saboteurs would infiltrate the docks and interrupt the shipments of supplies or somehow obtain vital information about America’s secrets. They made a deal with the Mafia, specifically gangster Charles “Lucky” Luciano.

Guido raised his hand to his head and moved his index finger around in a circle near his temple indicating Smalley Pauley had some mental issues.

There’s lotsa bad apples out there. It ain’t you, it’s the bushel of fruit available for the pickin’ that’s the problem.

When I was a cop me and my partner saw plenty of his handiwork. Yeah, we pulled his handiwork out a the water by the docks, we saw it in the bloody alleys, we saw it in cars burnt up on the side of the roads…

The Bonaccorso brothers are serious muscle, though if they were any dumber they’d be dumber than rocks.

The hell of it, Miss- Is your name Wonderly or Leblanc?' She blushed and murmured: 'It's really O'Shaughnessy - Brigid O'Shaughnessy

I can’t believe the way people act and the cruelty they have towards those they say they love or once loved...

It's amazin’ what people tell you when they’re relaxed and sittin’ in a barber chair.

I hope they don't hang you, precious, by that sweet neck. Yes, angel, I'm gonna send you over. The chances are you'll get off with life. That means if you're a good girl, you'll be out in 20 years. I'll be waiting for you. If they hang you, I'll always remember you. (Sam Spade to Brigid O'Shaughnessy)

[Esme Nicholl] 'Morbs, Mabel? What does it mean?' [Mabel O'Shaughnessy] 'It's a sadness that comes and goes... I get the morbs, you get the morbs, even Miss Lizzie 'ere gets the morbs, though she'd never let on. A woman's lot, I reckon.' 'It must derive from morbid,' I said to myself.... 'I reckon it derives from grief,' said Mabel. 'From what we've lost and what we've never 'ad and never will. As I said, a woman's lot....

Funny how some things work out. I mean, how many pairs of eyes do you look into in a lifetime – hundreds, maybe even thousands? Yet, only one pair of eyes means anything and everything. Who knows why?

Lev was a man who appreciated the finer things in life. To him, Maeve was one of them.

G-Men been tryin’ to snag him for years. It ain’t gonna happen. He’s smart. He’s heartless. He’s ice cold. He’s been a killer since he was twelve. He’s survived much worse than you. And, by the way, don’t think he won’t take out a few Feds if he wants to. You’re just a bunch a shitkickers to him. Who’s gonna arrest him? Huh? Cause it won’t be anyone around here. You boys need to look elsewheres for your glory and medals. That badge you got don’t mean nothin’ on these streets.

We are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams... Yet we are the movers and shakers of the world for ever, it seems.

I’ve been at this a long time. The good guys don’t always win. You take what you can get...

Maeve glanced around at the tables and watched the couples sitting close to each other laughing, holding hands, or staring into each other’s eyes. She felt that familiar ache thinking of Evan, missing him, and the emptiness it caused at times like this when she was alone.

…Sometimes the things you think hold you back are the ones that keep you holding on…

...the cruelest thing you ever said to me was that you would always love me.

Father Jakob mentioned to her that military men took it personally when women at home were assaulted. They were away fighting for their country and they believed the men left behind had an obligation to take care of and protect the women on the homefront. Maeve knew from experience women mostly had to take care of themselves.

If you don't fight to keep the man whom you claim to love. Then you deserve to loose him.

We are the music makers, We are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams World-losers and world-forsakers. On whom the pale moon gleams. Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems.

A second red-orange spearhead leaps straight at O'Shaughnessy. The whole world seems to stand still. Then the gun behind it crashes, and there's a cataclysm of pain all over him, and a shock goes through him as if he ran head-on into a stone wall. A voice from the car says blurredly, while the ground rushes up to meet him, 'Finish him up, you guys! I'm getting so I don't trust their looks no more, no matter how stiff they act!' ("Jane Brown's Body")

But we, with our dreaming and singing, Ceaseless and sorrowless we! The glory about us clinging Of the glorious futures we see, Our souls with high music ringing: O men! it must ever be That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing, A little apart from ye. We are afar with the dawning And the suns that are not yet high, And out of the infinite morning Intrepid you hear us cry — How, spite of your human scorning, Once more God's future draws nigh, And already goes forth the warning That ye of the past must die. Great hail! we cry to the comers From the dazzling unknown shore; Bring us hither your sun and your summers; And renew our world as of yore; You shall teach us your song's new numbers, And things that we dreamed not before: Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers, And a singer who sings no more.

And we are the dreamers of dreams...

You don’t have to say you’re sorry, because it’s okay to let the people who care about you take care of you sometimes. If not for you, then for us.

And therefore to-day is thrilling With a past day's late fulfilling; And the multitudes are enlisted In the faith that their fathers resisted, And, scorning the dream of to-morrow, Are bringing to pass, as they may, In the world, for its joy or its sorrow, The dream that was scorned yesterday.

To Arendt’s point about post-revolution stability deriving from pre-revolutionary experience in self government, it’s worth remembering that two of Henry’s less chatty fellow burgesses became the first and third presidents of the United States. Andrew O’Shaughnessy, referring to the masterminds of the 2013 government shutdown and no doubt alluding to the freshman senator who was its ringleader, told me, “Experience is terribly important. You’ll notice that the congressmen who want to hold up the government are all junior people and new to the game. And of course they will say, ‘Oh, it’s Washington cynicism, where they all compromise and work out backroom deals.’ But that’s actually how democracy works.” Which is exactly how government operations resumed on October 17, 2013: a bipartisan group of old-school senators with the combined age of Stonehenge started hashing out a bargain drafted by third-term moderate Republican Susan Collins of Maine, who, prior to her election sixteen years earlier, had spent twelve years working behind the scenes as a legislative aide to her predecessor.

It takes will power and nerve to hold the stick that way, to keep his eyes open and watch the rocky face of the cliff, pine-bearded, rush up at them. O'Shaughnessy's mouth flattens, his face goes white. And then in that final fraction of a moment, he laughs, a little crazily - a laugh of defiance, of mocking farewell, and, somehow, of conquest. 'Here we go, baby!' he shouts, teeth bared. 'Now I'm going to find out what it really feels like to fly into the side of a mountain!...' There is only the storm to hear the smash of the plane as it splinters itself against the rock - and the storm drowns the sound out with thunder, just as the lightning turns pale the flame that rises, like a hungry tongue, from the wreckage. ("Jane Browns Body")

And you,” Phineas turned to Percy, “well now, you don’t even know who you are! I could tell you, of course, but…ha! What fun would that be? And Brigid O’Shaughnessy shot Miles Archer in The Maltese Falcon. And Darth Vader is actually Luke’s father. And the winner of the next Super Bowl will be—” “Got it,” Frank muttered.

Yes, Ma'am, I do have all the answers! All in this one slim Volume!

O'Shaughnessy is hitting Denholt on the side of his head with his free arm, great, walloping, pile-driver blows. The two of them stagger together, like partners in a crazy dance. Glass is breaking all around them. Gray smoke from the six shots, pink-and-white dust from the chipped brick-and-plaster walls, swirl around them in a rainbow haze. Something vividly green flares up from one of the overturned retorts, goes right out again. O'Shaughnessy tears the emptied gun away, flings it off somewhere. More breaking glass, and this time a tart pungent smell that makes the nostrils sting. The crunch of pulverized tube glass underfoot makes it sound as if they were scuffling in sand or hard-packed snow. ("Jane Brown's Body")

The glove comes off, flops loosely over, and there's suddenly horror beating into his brain, smashing, pounding, battering. He reels a little in his chair, has to hold onto the edge of the table with both hands, at the impact of it. A clawlike thing - two of the finger extremities already bare of flesh as far as the second joint; two more with only shriveled, bloodless, rotting remnants of it adhering, only the thumb intact, and that already unhealthy-looking, flabby. A dead hand - the hand of a skeleton - on a still-living body. A body he was dancing with only a few minutes ago. A rank odor, a smell of decay, of the grave and of the tomb, hovers about the two of them now. A woman points from the next table, screams. She's seen it, too. She hides her face, cowers against her companion's shoulder, shudders. Then he sees it too. His collar's suddenly too tight for him. Others see it, one by one. A wave of impalpable horror spreads centrifugally from that thing lying there in the blazing electric light on O'Shaughnessy's table. The skeleton at the feast! ("Jane Brown's Body")

WE are the music-makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. With wonderful deathless ditties We build up the world's great cities, And out of a fabulous story We fashion an empire's glory: One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure Can trample an empire down. We, in the ages lying In the buried past of the earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing, And Babel itself with our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying To the old of the new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth.

We are the music makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams, Wandering by lone sea-breakers, And sitting by desolate streams; — World-losers and world-forsakers, On whom the pale moon gleams: Yet we are the movers and shakers Of the world for ever, it seems. With wonderful deathless ditties We build up the world's great cities, And out of a fabulous story We fashion an empire's glory: One man with a dream, at pleasure, Shall go forth and conquer a crown; And three with a new song's measure Can trample a kingdom down. We, in the ages lying, In the buried past of the earth, Built Nineveh with our sighing, And Babel itself in our mirth; And o'erthrew them with prophesying To the old of the new world's worth; For each age is a dream that is dying, Or one that is coming to birth. A breath of our inspiration Is the life of each generation; A wondrous thing of our dreaming Unearthly, impossible seeming — The soldier, the king, and the peasant Are working together in one, Till our dream shall become their present, And their work in the world be done. They had no vision amazing Of the goodly house they are raising; They had no divine foreshowing Of the land to which they are going: But on one man's soul it hath broken, A light that doth not depart; And his look, or a word he hath spoken, Wrought flame in another man's heart. And therefore to-day is thrilling With a past day's late fulfilling; And the multitudes are enlisted In the faith that their fathers resisted, And, scorning the dream of to-morrow, Are bringing to pass, as they may, In the world, for its joy or its sorrow, The dream that was scorned yesterday. But we, with our dreaming and singing, Ceaseless and sorrowless we! The glory about us clinging Of the glorious futures we see, Our souls with high music ringing: O men! it must ever be That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing, A little apart from ye. For we are afar with the dawning And the suns that are not yet high, And out of the infinite morning Intrepid you hear us cry — How, spite of your human scorning, Once more God's future draws nigh, And already goes forth the warning That ye of the past must die. Great hail! we cry to the comers From the dazzling unknown shore; Bring us hither your sun and your summers; And renew our world as of yore; You shall teach us your song's new numbers, And things that we dreamed not before: Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers, And a singer who sings no more.

been cavorting

Out of a fabulous story, we fashion an empire's glory..

Well," Paul said. "Hit a stiff hand against the dealer’s seven through ace. Hit soft eighteen against the dealer’s nine or ten. Stand on soft nineteen or above. Double on eleven and on ten against the dealer’s two through nine. Split pairs of aces and eights, never split tens, fives, or fours. Split twos through sevens against the dealer’s two through seven. Split pairs of nines against the dealer’s

Hey, you got the makings of a star, the way you reel that off." Otis dribbled fresh Scotch into his glass. The mostly empty bottle was now on the table. "Now I’m gonna take you further. Paul, you know we got 16 tens and 36 not-tens in the deck of fifty-two. The face cards count as tens." Paul nodded. Nina couldn’t follow, but knew there must be some reason Paul was egging Otis on about the cards. She let her attention direct itself to the way Paul was rubbing his knee. He looked absorbed, and maybe he was. You had to get to know him, to watch the hazel eyes close into slits, to realize how hard he worked to keep powerful impulses under wraps. "It’s a simple point-count method. Like an index to the Thorp ratios. The idea is, the more ten cards are left in the deck, the better your chance of getting an early bust out

Reading changes the past.

We, as humans, need to grieve our losses. We can get stuck emotionally until we recognize our loss and grieve for it. Grief validates all the good in our lives. Grieving well means recognizing and naming the loss, mourning the loss, accepting the loss, coming to closure, and moving forward to the next developmental stage.’ 4

Utah boasted experience of dam building on a grand scale, having completed the O’Shaughnessy Dam in Yosemite National Park’s Hetch Hetchy Valley in 1923 for a San Francisco municipal water project. That $7 million project had had enough peculiarities to toughen the hide of any construction man. For one thing, it was the subject of one of the most explosive environmental battles in American history,

O’Shaughnessy’s best-selling book is titled What Works On Wall Street: The Classic Guide to the Best-Performing Investment Strategies of All Time.

You don’t have to say you’re sorry, because it’s okay to let the people who care about you take care of you sometimes. If not for you, then for us.” There was

And so she signed on, not knowing, surely, what is now quite clear to us: that she was about to create one of the enduring archetypes of the American screen, the noir female. Certainly this creature had her antecedents in the vamps of the silent screen. But they tended to be European in origin, and to hide their schemings under a highly romantic manner. It might also be argued that there were hints of what was to come in figures like Mary Astor's Brigid O'Shaughnessy in The Maltese Falcon (though she, of course, affected a genteel disguise for her true motives). But really the bluntness and hardness of Stanwyck's work was something essentially new, and the alacrity with which it was imitated in film after film of the 40s is one of the interesting, largely unexplored questions of our movie and social history. It surely had something to do with the freedom American women claimed for themselves during the war years, and the nervousness that stirred among males - especially males who were absent at the front and concerned about the fidelity of the girls they left behind. Hard to keep them down on the farm (or behind a suburban picket fence) after they had found work in the rough atmosphere of factories, known the joys of living alone and, for that matter, going to bars alone. Phyllis Dietrichson did none of those things, but she had been a working woman and she was clearly capable of - putting it mildly - a high degree of self-sufficiency.