Panic Buying Quotes

Rules for Living by Olivia Joules 1. Never panic. Stop, breathe, think. 2. No one is thinking about you. They're thinking about themselves, just like you. 3. Never change haircut or color before an important event. 4. Nothing is either as bad or good as it seems. 5. Do as you would be done by, e.g. thou shalt not kill. 6. It is better to buy one expensive thing that you really like than several cheap ones that you only quite like. 7. Hardly anything matters: if you get upset, ask yourself, "Does it really matter?" 8. The key to success lies in how you pick yourself up from failure. 9. Be honest and kind. 10. Only buy clothes that make you feel like doing a small dance. 11. Trust your instincts, not your overactive imagination. 12. When overwhelmed by disaster, check if it's really a disaster by doing the following: (a) think, "Oh, fuck it," (b) look on the bright side, and if that doesn't work, look on the funny side. If neither of the above works then maybe it is a disaster so turn to items 1 and 4. 13. Don't expect the world to be safe or life to be fair.

You cannot go around in grief and panic every day; people will not let you, they will coax you with tea and tell you to move on, bake cakes and paint walls. [...] So what you do is you let them coax you. You bake the cake and paint the wall and smile; you buy a new freezer as if you now had a plan for the future. And secretly--in the early morning--you sew a pocket in your skin. At the hollow of your throat. So that every time you smile, or nod your head at a teacher meeting, or bend over to pick up a fallen spoon, it presses and pricks and stings and you know you’ve not moved on. You never even planned to.

What liberals must conserve is the middle class: the stable family who can afford to enjoy music and theater and take the kids to Europe someday and put money in the collection plate and save for college and keep up the home and be secure against catastrophe. This family has taken big hits in payroll taxes and loss of buying power and a certain suppressed panic about job security.

In my civilian world at home in Los Angeles, half the people I know are on antidepressants or anti–panic attack drugs because they can’t handle the stress of a mean boss or a crowd at the 7-Eleven when buying a Slurpee.

Funny how easily you could look this shit up online. Explosives, bombs, Molotov cocktails, IEDs . . . anything you wanted. Learning how to blow someone up was easier than buying a frigging beer.

The next time you find yourself in the midst of some national hysteria with sensible people losing their heads, with legislatures in panic and with the media buying it all and amplifying it with a kind of megaphone effect, remember this: Remember that a people—even the most sensible people—can all lose their heads at once.

So what do you do? You panic. And you buy stuff. That’s what you do. Ergonomic and organic and pedagogic and anatomically correct stuff.

By observing your judging mind, you can avoid automatically buying into these negative judgments...This transforms your experience of stress by taking the terror and panic out of it.

Seen through the lens of human perception, cycles are often viewed as less symmetrical than they are. Negative price fluctuations are called “volatility,” while positive price fluctuations are called “profit.” Collapsing markets are called “selling panics,” while surges receive more benign descriptions (but I think they may best be seen as “buying panics”; see tech stocks in 1999, for example). Commentators talk about “investor capitulation” at the bottom of market cycles, while I also see capitulation at the top, when previously prudent investors throw in the towel and buy.

When Peter got injured in Canada and Kira started work, Peter was left at home alone with Isak. One day the child had a stomach ache and wouldn't stop screaming. Panic-stricken, Peter tried everything. He rocked him and took him out in the stroller and tried all the home remedies he had ever heard of, but nothing worked. Until he put a record on. Perhaps it was something about the old record player - the crackle in the speakers, the voices filling the room - but Isak fell completely silent. Then he smiled. And then he fell asleep in Peter's arms. That's the last time Peter can remember really feeling like a good father. The last time he had been able to tell himself that he actually knew what he was doing. He's never told Kira that, has never told anyone. But now he buys records in secret because he keeps hoping that feeling my come back, if only for a moment

Don't misunderstand, but how dare you risk your life? What the devil did you think, to leap over like that? You could have stayed safe on this side and just helped me over." Even to her ears, her tone bordered on the hysterical. Beneath her fingers, the white lawn started to redden. She sucked in a shaky breath. "How could you risk your life-your life, you idiot!" She leaned harder on the pad, dragged in another breath. He coughed weakly, shifted his head. "Don't you dare die on me!" His lips twisted, but his eyes remained closed. "But if I die"-his words were a whisper-"you won't have to marry, me or anyone else. Even the most censorious in the ton will consider my death to be the end of the matter. You'll be free." "Free?" Then his earlier words registered. "If you die? I told you-don't you dare! I won't let you-I forbid you to. How can I marry you if you die? And how the hell will I live if you aren't alive, too?" As the words left her mouth, half hysterical, all emotion, she realized they were the literal truth. Her life wouldn't be worth living if he wasn't there to share it. "What will I do with my life if you die?" He softly snorted, apparently unimpressed by-or was it not registering?-her panic. "Marry some other poor sod, like you were planning to." The words cut. "You are the only poor sod I'm planning to marry." Her waspish response came on a rush of rising fear. She glanced around, but there was no one in sight. Help had yet to come running. She looked back at him, readjusted the pressure on the slowly reddening pad. "I intend not only to marry you but to lead you by the nose for the rest of your days. It's the least I can do to repay you for this-for the shock to my nerves. I'll have you know I'd decided even before this little incident to reverse my decision and become your viscountess, and lead you such a merry dance through the ballrooms and drawing rooms that you'll be gray within two years." He humphed softly, dismissively, but he was listening. Studying his face, she realized her nonsense was distracting him from the pain. She engaged her imagination and let her tongue run free. "I've decided I'll redecorate Baraclough in the French Imperial style-all that white and gilt and spindly legs, with all the chairs so delicate you won't dare sit down. And while we're on the subject of your-our-country home, I've had an idea about my carriage, the one you'll buy me as a wedding gift..." She rambled on, paying scant attention to her words, simply let them and all the images she'd dreamed of come tumbling out, painting a vibrant, fanciful, yet in many ways-all the ways that counted-accurate word pictures of her hopes, her aspirations. Her vision of their life together. When the well started to run dry, when her voice started to thicken with tears at the fear that they might no longer have a chance to enjoy all she'd described, she concluded with, "So you absolutely can't die now." Fear prodded; almost incensed, she blurted, "Not when I was about to back down and agree to return to London with you." He moistened his lips. Whispered, "You were?" "Yes! I was!" His fading voice tipped her toward panic. Her voice rose in reaction. "I can't believe you were so foolish as to risk your life like this! You didn't need to put yourself in danger to save me." "Yes, I did." The words were firmer, bitten off through clenched teeth. She caught his anger. Was anger good. Would temper hold him to the world? A frown drew down his black brows. "You can't be so damned foolish as to think I wouldn't-after protecting you through all this, seeing you safely all this way, watching over you all this time, what else was I going to do?

It is the beginning of the 'demonetization' of the notes. The process is hastened by its panic-like character. It may be possible once, twice, perhaps even three or four times, to allay the fears of the public; but eventually the affair must run its course and then there is no longer any going back. Once the depreciation is proceeding so rapidly that sellers have to reckon with considerable losses even if they buy again as quickly as is possible, then the position of the currency is hopeless.

Sound investing is not complicated. Save a portion of every dollar you earn or that otherwise comes your way. The greater the percent of your income you save and invest, the sooner you’ll have F-You Money. Try saving and investing 50% of your income. With no debt, this is perfectly doable. The beauty of a high savings rate is twofold: You learn to live on less even as you have more to invest. The stock market is a powerful wealth-building tool and you should be investing in it. But realize the market and the value of your shares will sometimes drop dramatically. This is absolutely normal and to be expected. When it happens, ignore the drops and buy more shares. This will be much, much harder than you think. People all around you will panic. The news media will be screaming Sell, Sell, Sell! Nobody can predict when these drops will happen, even though the media is filled with those who claim they can. They are delusional, trying to sell you something or both. Ignore them. When you can live on 4% of your investments per year, you are financially independent.

All right. Couldn't you just lay your head right down on those words and rest? I wanted those words for my own. No matter how much things change or how time has passed, every single earthly creature pursued the promise of all right, and I was no different. We sought it out in the shelter of caves and underground hollows and in successful husbands and suburban neighborhoods with gates. We fought for it, and manipulated others to get it, and tried to buy it in our organic food and cars with every safety feature and tried to fake it with tough exteriors, and camouflage, and false hopes. We could want a sense of shelter, so badly that we could lose air until the panic of not having it was over, or we could ditch our lives in an instant. The desire for all right was perhaps the only thing we all-every human, every animal- truly had in common, even though the relentless drive for it could make us both stand against one another and seek out one another's warm and flawed company.

Many potential readers will skip the shopping cart or cash-out clerk because they have seen so many disasters reported in the news that they’ve acquired a panic mentality when they think of them. “Disasters scare me to death!” they cry. “I don’t want to read about them!” But really, how can a picture hurt you? Better that each serve as a Hallmark card that greets your fitful fevers with reason and uncurtains your valor. Then, so gospeled, you may see that defeating a disaster is as innocently easy as deciding to go out to dinner. Remove the dread that bars your doors of perception, and you will enjoy a banquet of treats that will make the difference between suffering and safety. You will enter a brave new world that will erase your panic, and release you from the grip of terror, and relieve you of the deadening effects of indifference —and you will find that switch of initiative that will energize your intelligence, empower your imagination, and rouse your sense of vigilance in ways that will tilt the odds of danger from being forever against you to being always in your favor. Indeed, just thinking about a disaster is one of the best things you can do —because it allows you to imagine how you would respond in a way that is free of pain and destruction. Another reason why disasters seem so scary is that many victims tend to see them as a whole rather than divide them into much smaller and more manageable problems. A disaster can seem overwhelming when confronted with everything at once —but if you dice it into its tiny parts and knock them off one at a time, the whole thing can seem as easy as eating a lavish dinner one bite at a time. In a disaster you must also plan for disruption as well as destruction. Death and damage may make the news, but in almost every disaster far more lives are disrupted than destroyed. Wit­ness the tornado that struck Joplin, Missouri, in May 2011 and killed 158 people. The path of death and destruction was less than a mile wide and only 22 miles long —but within thirty miles 160,000 citizens whose property didn’t suffer a dime of damage were profoundly disrupted by the carnage, loss of power and water, suspension of civic services, and inability to buy food, gas, and other necessities. You may rightfully believe your chances of dying in a disaster in your lifetime may be nearly nil, but the chances of your life being disrupted by a disaster in the next decade is nearly a sure thing. Not only should you prepare for disasters, you should learn to premeditate them. Prepare concerns the body; premeditate concerns the mind. Everywhere you go, think what could happen and how you might/could/would/should respond. Use your imagination. Fill your brain with these visualizations —run mind-movies in your head —develop a repertoire —until when you walk into a building/room/situation you’ll automatically know what to do. If a disaster does ambush you —sure you’re apt to panic, but in seconds your memory will load the proper video into your mobile disk drive and you’ll feel like you’re watching a scary movie for the second time and you’ll know what to expect and how to react. That’s why this book is important: its manner of vivifying disasters kickstarts and streamlines your acquiring these premeditations, which lays the foundation for satisfying your needs when a disaster catches you by surprise.

But most investors do capitulate eventually. They simply run out of the resolve needed to hold out. Once the asset has doubled or tripled in price on the way up — or halved on the way down — many people feel so stupid and wrong, and are so envious of those who’ve profited from the fad or side-stepped the decline, that they lose the will to resist further. My favorite quote on this subject is from Charles Kindleberger: “There is nothing as disturbing to one’s well-being and judgment as to see a friend get rich” (Manias, Panics, and Crashes: A History of Financial Crises, 1989). Market participants are pained by the money that others have made and they’ve missed out on, and they’re afraid the trend (and the pain) will continue further. They conclude that joining the herd will stop the pain, so they surrender. Eventually they buy the asset well into its rise or sell after it has fallen a great deal. In other words, after failing to do the right thing in stage one, they compound the error by taking that action in stage three, when it has become the wrong thing to do. That’s capitulation. It’s a highly destructive aspect of investor behavior during cycles, and a great example of psychology-induced error at its worst.

When a journey we have longed to make begins to become a reality, and the mind and sensibility are starting to wonder whether it is really worth the effort, the will, which well knows that, if it turned out the journey could not be made, these feckless masters would immediately long for it to become possible again, lets them loiter in front of the station, having their say, hesitating until the last minute, while it makes sure of buying the tickets and getting us into the train before departure time. It is as invariable as the mind and sensibility are changeable; but because it is silent and never gives its reasons, it seems almost nonexistent; all the other parts of our self march to its tune unawares, though they can always see clearly their own uncertainties. So my mind and sensibility set up a debate on how much pleasure there might be in making the acquaintance of Albertine, while in front of the mirror I considered the vain and fragile charms that they would have preferred to preserve unused for some better occasion. But my will did not lose sight of the time at which I had to leave; and it was Elstir’s address that it gave to the coachman. My mind and sensibility, now that the die was cast, indulged in the luxury of thinking it was a pity. If my will had given a different address, they would have been in a state of panic.

Tamlin's claws punched out. 'Even if I risked it, you're untrained abilities render your presence more of a liability than anything.' It was like being hit with stones- so hard I could feel myself cracking. But I lifted my chin and said, 'I'm coming along whether you want me to or not.' 'No, you aren't.' He strode right through the door, his claws slashing the air at his sides, and was halfway down the steps before I reached the threshold. Where I slammed into an invisible wall. I staggered back, trying to reorder my mind around the impossibility of it. It was identical to the one I'd built that day in the study, and I searched inside the shards of my soul, my heart, for a tether to that shield, wondering if I'd blocked myself, but- there was no power emanating from me. I reached a hand to the open air of the doorway. And met solid resistance. 'Tamlin,' I rasped. But he was already down the front drive, walking towards the looming iron gates. Lucien remained at the foot of the stairs, his face so, so pale. 'Tamlin,' I said again, pushing against the wall. He didn't turn. I slammed my hand into the invisible barrier. No movement- nothing but hardened air. And I had not learned about my own powers enough to try to push through, to shatter it... I had let him convince me not to learn those things for his sake- 'Don't bother trying,' Lucien said softly, as Tamlin cleared the gates and vanished- winnowed. 'He shielded the entire house around you. Others can go in and out, but you can't. Not until he lifts the shield.' He'd locked me in here. I hit the shield again. Again. Nothing. 'Just- be patient, Feyre,' Lucien tried, wincing as he followed after Tamlin. 'Please. I'll see what I can do. I'll try again.' I barely heard him over the roar in my ears. Didn't wait to see him pass the gates and winnow, too. He'd locked me in. He'd sealed me inside the house. I hurtled for the nearest window in the foyer and shoved it open. A cool spring breeze rushed in- and I shoved my hand through it- only for my fingers to bounce off an invisible wall. Smooth, hard air pushed against my skin. Breathing became difficult. I was trapped. I was trapped inside this house. I might as well have been Under the Mountain. I might as well have been inside that cell again- I backed away, my steps too light, too fast, and slammed into the oak table in the centre of the foyer. None of the nearby sentries came to investigate. He'd trapped me in here; he'd locked me up. I stopped seeing the marble floor, or the paintings on the walls, or the sweeping staircase looming behind me. I stopped hearing the chirping of the spring birds, or the sighing of the breeze through the curtains. And then crushing black pounded down and rose up beneath, devouring and roaring and shredding. It was all I could do to keep from screaming, to keep from shattering into ten thousand pieces as I sank onto the marble floor, bowing over my knees, and wrapped my arms around myself. He'd trapped me; he'd trapped me; he'd trapped me- I had to get out, because I'd barely escaped from another prison once before, and this time, this time- Winnowing. I could vanish into nothing but air and appear somewhere else, somewhere open and free. I fumbled for my power, for anything, something that might show me the way to do it, the way out. Nothing. There was nothing and I had become nothing, and I couldn't even get out- Someone was shouting my name from far away. Alis- Alis. But I was ensconced in a cocoon of darkness and fire and ice and wind, a cocoon that melted the ring off my finger until the folden ore dripped away into the void, the emerald tumbling after it. I wrapped that raging force around myself as if it could keep the walls from crushing me entirely, and maybe, maybe buy me the tiniest sip of air- I couldn't get out; I couldn't get out; I couldn't get out-

had forced him to buy Exeltec from me for another exorbitant sum, so I came away from this in a good enough position. The CDC failed to find evidence that Panos had released any kind of pathogen, and eventually determined that the note on Panos’s computer had been an idle threat, meant to send I3 into a panic. Earlier that morning, Dion had sent me a thank-you note from him and his mother for stopping the government from burning the body. I hadn’t yet told them I’d stolen this thumb drive. It contained the key, and a . . . second file. A small text document, also encrypted. We’d stared at it for a time before realizing that the key had been printed on the outside of the thumb drive itself. Chapter nineteen

Many complex elements contributed to the Great Depression of 1929. However, most economists believe that the two main causes of the Depression were the immensely uneven distribution of wealth during the previous decade and the extensive speculation in stock that took place in the latter half of the decade. The decade preceding the Depression was a time of tremendous prosperity and became known as the “Roaring Twenties.” However, prosperity was not for everyone. The number of wealthy people in the country was less than a tenth of a percent of the total population yet they controlled most of the money in the country. In a well-functioning economy, demand must equal supply. But in 1929 wealth was so unevenly distributed that the supply of products far exceeded the demand for them. People may have wanted the products at the time but they couldn’t afford them. If supplies keep building and demand lessens, the economy can collapse. One way to balance the equation is to allow people to buy products over time. By the end of the Roaring Twenties, over 60 percent of all automobiles and 80 percent of all radios had been purchased on credit. With this new influx of money into the market, the economy was booming at the end of the 1920s. Stock speculation became rampant. Profits as high as 3,400 percent could be made in less than a year and people could buy on margin. In other words, they only had to put down 10 percent cash when buying a stock. Because of this, everyone was buying stocks. The poor were equal players with the rich. This buying spree pushed the market to new highs. In 1928 alone the Dow Jones Industrial Average rose from 191 to 300. There were warning signs as minor recessions occurred in the spring of 1929. Investors became nervous. In October people started selling their shares of stock. As the market started dropping, more and more people sold stock, margins were called, and by October 1929 there was panic selling. Stock prices dropped so fast that many rich people became poor in a matter of hours.

We all know deep down it doesn’t make us happy, to be endlessly working to buy shiny consumer objects we have seen in advertisements. But we keep doing it, day after day. It in fact occupies most of our time on earth. We could slow down. We could work less and buy less. It would prevent the environment—our habitat—from being systematically destroyed. But we don’t do it, because we are isolated in our individual cages. In that environment, the idea of consuming less, in fact, fills us with panic. All this stuff, Bruce believes, is filling the hole where normal human connection should be.

The number one thing that has helped me in the long run is doing the things that scare me. If my anxiety kept me from going to the stores, being physically active or socializing – then that is exactly what I kept on doing. If I needed to buy some groceries, I didn’t talk myself out of it and say “Well, I don’t actually need to buy those apples today, I can get them tomorrow”. No, I just got out there and bought them. I highly suggest you keep on doing the things that you are/were frightened of the most.

The internal slave trade became the largest enterprise in the South outside of the plantation itself, and probably the most advanced in its employment of modern transportation, finance, and publicity. It developed its own language: prime hands, bucks, breeding wenches, and fancy girls. Its routes, running counter to the freedom trails that fugitive slaves followed north, were similarly dotted by safe houses - pens, jails, and yards that provided resting places for slave traders as well as temporary warehouses for slaves. In all, the slave trade, with its hubs and regional centers, its spurs and circuits, reached into every cranny of southern society. Few southerners, white or black, were untouched. In the half century following the War of 1812, planters and traders expanded and rationalized the transcontinental transfer of slaves. During the second decade of the nineteenth century, traders and owners sent an estimated 120,000 slaves from the seaboard to the west, with the states and territories of Georgia, Tennessee, Alabama, and Louisiana being the largest recipients. That number increased substantially during the following decade and yet again during the 1830s, when slave traders and migrating planters uprooted almost 300,000 black men, women, and children. By this time, though most of the slaves still derived from the Upper South - particularly Maryland and Virginia - their destination had moved further west. Alabama and Mississippi had become the largest recipients, with each receiving nearly 100,000 slaves during the 1830s. The Panic of 1837 and the subsequent decline in cotton and sugar production deflated the price of slaves and the trade slackened for a few years. But prices soon revived and with them the demand for slaves. Nearly one quarter of a million slaves left the seaboard for the interior during the 1850s, with more than half being taken west of the Mississippi River. The 'mania for buying negroes' easily overwhelmed periodic bans against slave importation and did not cease until the arrival of Union troops.

But few gain sufficient experience in Wall Street to command sucess until they reach that period of life in which they have one foot in the grave. When this time comes these old veterans of the Street usually spend long intervals of repose at their comfortable homes, and in times of panic, which recur sometimes oftener than once a year, these old fellows will be seen in Wall Street, hobbling down on their canes to their brokers' office. Then they always buy good stocks to the extent of their bank balances, which have been permitted to accumulate for just such an emergency. The panic usually rages until enough of these cash purchases of stock is made to afford a big "rake in." When the panic has spent its force, these old fellows, who have been resting judiciously on their oars in expectation of the inevitable event, which usually returns with the regularity of the seasons, quickly realize, deposit their profits with their bankers, or the overplus thereof, after purchasing more real estate that is on the upgrade, for permanent investment, and retire for another season to the quietude of their splendid homes and the bosoms of their happy families. If young men had only the patience to watch the speculative signs of the times, as manifested in the periodical egress of these old prophetic speculators from their shells of security, they would make more money at these intervals than by following up the slippery "tips" of the professional "pointers" of the Stock Exchange all the year round, and they would feel no necessity for hanging at the coat tails, around the hotels, of those specious frauds, who pretend to be deep in the councils of the big operations and of all the new "pools" in process of formation. I say to the young speculators, therefore, watch the ominous visits to the Street of these old men. They are as certain to be seen on the eve of a panic as spiders creeping stealthily and noiselessly from their cobwebs just before rain.

the last stage of a bear market "is caused by distress selling of sound securities, regardless of their value, by those who must find a cash market for at least a portion of their assets." The market player who avoids being invested near the top of bull markets-where he can really get hurt in a panic crash-and plays the short side in bear markets can be in the position to take advantage of such distress selling. You might miss the last 10 or even 20% of the gains to be made near bull market tops (while making T-bill yields), but you'll definitely still have your capital when the time comes to buy value with tremendous upside potential and almost no downside risk. In my view, the way to build wealth is to preserve capital, make consistent profits, and wait patiently for the right opportunity to make extraordinary gains.

I think so. Look, I'm here to let you know I'm selling La Bella Luna," Kane began, and the shock showed on Rodney's face. He started to speak, but Kane stopped him, raising a hand. "And I want you to buy it." "Kane, man, I can't afford this place. And I don't have the credit to get this kind of money," Rodney said. He was up and on his feet, panic now replaced the shock. "Trust me, you can afford it. And I'll carry the note. Avery's firm can draw up the papers," Kane said, realizing for the first time in a long time his super-calm facade was back in place. "I want you to have the place. It's the only way I can let it go." That stopped Rodney in his tracks. His face again went through a variety of changes, until uncertainty settled in. "Can I handle it?" "I think you can. You already do most of the work now. I can stay on as your consultant. Talk you through anything you need help with. I'll also handle the paperwork transfer and be your lender. Paulie would want you to have it," Kane added, nodding his head now.

History records that there was only one Napoleon at the battle of Waterloo — and that he was too small for his job. The fact is there were two Napoleons at Waterloo, and the second one was big enough for his job, with some to spare. The second Napoleon was Nathan Rothschild — the emperor of finance. During the trying months that came before the crash Nathan Rothschild had plunged on England until his own fortunes, no less than those of the warring nations, were staked on the issue. He had lent money direct. He had discounted Wellington's paper. He had risked millions by sending chests of gold through war-swept territory where the slightest failure of plans might have caused its capture. He was extended to the limit when the fateful hour struck, and the future seemed none too certain. The English, in characteristic fashion, believed that all had been lost before anything was lost -— before the first gun bellowed out its challenge over the Belgian plains. The London stock market was in a panic. Consols were falling, slipping, sliding, tumbling. If the telegraph had been invented, the suspense would have been less, even if the wires had told that all was lost. But there was no telegraph. There were only rumors and fears. As the armies drew toward Waterloo Nathan Rothschild was like a man aflame. All of his instincts were crying out for news — good news, bad news, any kind of news, but news — something to end his suspense. News could be had immediately only by going to the front. He did not want to go to the front. A biographer of the family, Mr. Ignatius Balla, 1 declares that Nathan had " always shrunk from the sight of blood." From this it may be presumed that, to put it delicately, he was not a martial figure. But, as events came to a focus, his mingled hopes and fears overcame his inborn instincts. He must know the best or the worst and that at once. So he posted off for Belgium. He drew near to the gathering armies. From a safe post on a hill he saw the puffs of smoke from the opening guns. He saw Napoleon hurl his human missiles at Wellington's advancing walls of red. He did not see the final crash of the French, because he saw enough to convince him that it was coming, and therefore did not wait to witness the actual event. He had no time to wait. He hungered and thirsted for London as a few days before he had hungered and thirsted for the sight of Waterloo. Wellington having saved the day for him as well as for England, Nathan Rothschild saw an opportunity to reap colossal gains by beating the news of Napoleon's 1 The Romance of the Rothschilds, p. 88. 126 OUR DISHONEST CONSTITUTION defeat to London and buying the depressed securities of his adopted country before the news of victory should send them skyward with the hats of those whose brains were still whirling with fear. So he left the field of Waterloo while the guns were still booming out the requiem of all of Napoleon's great hopes of empire. He raced to Brussels upon the back of a horse whose sides were dripping with spur-drawn blood. At Brussels he paid an exorbitant price to be whirled in a carriage to Ostend. At Ostend he found the sea in the grip of a storm that shook the shores even as Wellington was still shaking the luck-worn hope of France. " He was certainly no hero," says Balla, " but at the present moment he feared nothing." Who would take him in a boat and row him to England? Not a boatman spoke. No one likes to speak when Death calls his name, and Rothschild's words were like words from Death. But Rothschild continued to speak. He must have a boatman and a boat. He must beat the news of Waterloo to England. Who would make the trip for 500 francs? Who would go for 800, 1,000? Who would go for 2,000? A courageous sailor would go. His name should be here if it had not been lost to the world. His name should be here and wherever this story is printed, because he said he would go if Rothschild would pay the 2,000 francs to the sailor's wife before

The right response to a fall in the price of one asset class is never to panic and sell out. Rather, you need the long-term discipline and personal fortitude to buy more. Remember: The lower stock prices go, the better the bargains if you are truly a long-term investor. Sharp market declines may make rebalancing appear a frustrating “way to lose even more money.” But in the long run, investors who rebalance their portfolios in a disciplined way are well rewarded.

On that Sunday, as people got up in the morning, rumors started about war. After a few hours the radio broadcast the official acknowledgement of the German attack. The first reaction of a well seasoned population was: "Do we have water? Do we still have electricity?" As these were still intact, one had to buy bread, flour, yeast. It took no time to witness the panic that set in among the Russians. Some tried to leave right away, to go home, wherever home was. The military were going hither and thither in their trucks. Within two, three days it became apparent that they were not even trying to hold the line and a stampede Eastward started. Panic set in. Officers and their families ran away; any official, who could put a hand on a truck, loaded it with all they had acquired in such a short time and fled.

What is second-level thinking? • First-level thinking says, “It’s a good company; let’s buy the stock.” Second-level thinking says, “It’s a good company, but everyone thinks it’s a great company, and it’s not. So the stock’s overrated and overpriced; let’s sell.” • First-level thinking says, “The outlook calls for low growth and rising inflation. Let’s dump our stocks.” Second-level thinking says, “The outlook stinks, but everyone else is selling in panic. Buy!” • First-level thinking says, “I think the company’s earnings will fall; sell.” Second-level thinking says, “I think the company’s earnings will fall less than people expect, and the pleasant surprise will lift the stock; buy.” First-level thinking is simplistic and superficial, and just about everyone can do it (a bad sign for anything involving an attempt at superiority). All the first-level thinker needs is an opinion about the future, as in “The outlook for the company is favorable, meaning the stock will go up.” Second-level thinking is deep, complex and convoluted. The second-level thinker takes a great many things into account: • What is the range of likely future outcomes? • Which outcome do I think will occur? • What’s the probability I’m right? • What does the consensus think?

A woman's world has always revolved around children and other women. At least as long as I've been around, and I'm almost 60." she smoothed the sheet draped across Ellie as she talked, tucking it in around the sides of her body like a cocoon. "Don't get me wrong," she continued. "We love our men, and the idea of a husband is a good thing. What woman wouldn't want that?" Ellie thought of her brave, independent Aunt Nessa, teaching until she was seventy and dying in ehr sleep on a train bound for New Mexico. She'd never wanted to marry, and she was the happiest woman Ellie had ever known. Mrs Drake put the tissue from the box on Ellie's nightstand and blew her nose. "Men need us more than we need them," she said, and then lowered her voice. "Including the doctors around here. They walk around acting like God, but you should see the panic when one of them has to buy a birthday present for his wife. They have no idea what women want." She washed her hands in the small sink in the corner. "That's why we need our women friends. We're with each other from the beginning to the very end, and everything in between. We understand each other. It's instinctual.

A test drive is dangerous in many ways. Drivers are encountering a particular car for the first time, so they are basically beginners. They usually can't located what they need quickly and panic. Since they aren't yet used to the feel of the brakes and have trouble reining in their excitement, the car jerks or swerves. And they floor it without an ounce of hesitation, something they don't do in their own cars. The rpm gauge dances beyond the red line and their bodies are plastered to the seats, as if someone is pulling them from behind. A few times, Ma-ri has actually wondered whether men were aroused by the smell of a new car. As soon as their feet touch the accelerator, their breathing grows irregular and excited. Their upper bodies lean forward, in attack mode, and their aftershave mixes with their sweat, emitting musk. The scent of virile males. Forgetting that Ma-ri is sitting next to them, they swear and revert to a state of boyhood. In this tight space, their shoulders brushing against each other, a peculiar tension grows between the test drivers and Ma-ri. The men become attracted to her, a chick who understands cars, and Ma-ri sometimes feels a burning heat, sitting next to these toylike men. But as soon as they return to the showroom and the men hand over the keys, they revert to being nice, polite middle-aged men. They leave quickly, looking a little embarrassed. They bluff a little, acting as if they might buy the car right away, quickly going over their financial situations in their heads, then get back into their own cars, feeling a little shrivelled.

If too much time is spent up above, we become uncharacteristically curt with our colleagues, we slip up on our programs, we are rude to waiters, even though one of us (lane seven, little black Speedo, enormous flipper like feet), is a waiter himself. We cease to delight our mates... and even though we resist the urge to descent, it will pass, we tell ourselves. We can feel our panic beginning to rise, as though we were somehow missing out on our own lives. Just a quick dip and everything will be alright. And when we can stand it no longer, we politely excuse ourselves from whatever it is we're doing: discussing this month's book with our book club, celebrating an office birthday, ending an affair, wandering aimlessly up and down the florescent lit aisles of the local Safeway, trying to remember what it is was we came in to buy, (Mallomars, Lorna Doones), and go down for a swim, because there's no place on earth we'd rather be than the pool. Its wide roped off lanes, clearly numbered 1 through 8, its deep, well-designed gutters, its cheerful yellow buoys spaced at pleasingly predictable intervals, its separate, but equal entrances for women and men, the warm ambient glow of its recessed, overhead lights, all provide us with a sense of comfort and order that's missing from our above ground lives.

As Ivar watched the Americans enter a period of buying mania, he saw a new source of funds. Ivar had studied financial history and was aware of infamous periods of mania and later panic, such as the South Sea Bubble of 1720 and the infamous rise and collapse of Dutch tulip bulb trading in 1637.20 In those cases, men became rich as they rode the wave of investors speculating on risky ventures. Ivar knew the timing was crucial; American optimism would not persist forever. When investors were manic, they would purchase just about anything.

The Israelis feel threatened by the prospect of Iranian nuclear weapons. It is not just Iran’s potential to rival their own arsenal and wipe out Israel with just one bomb: if Iran were to get the bomb, then the Arab countries would probably panic and attempt to get theirs as well. The Saudis, for example, fear that the ayatollahs want to dominate the region, bring all the Shia Arabs under their guidance, and even have designs on controlling the holy cities of Mecca and Medina. A nuclear-armed Iran would be the regional superpower par excellence, and to counter this danger the Saudis would probably try to buy nuclear weapons from Pakistan (with whom they have close ties). Egypt and Turkey might follow suit.

Miracle story about Lahiri Mahasaya from a woman disciple, Abhoya, from Chapter 31, titled "An Interview with the Sacred Mother", in the book "Autobiography of a Yogi" by Yogananda*: She [Abhoya] and her husband, a Calcutta lawyer, started one day for Banaras to visit the guru. Their carriage was delayed by heavy traffic; they reached the Howrah main station in Calcutta only to hear the Banaras train whistling for departure. Abhoya, near the ticket office, stood quietly. "Lahiri Mahasaya, I beseech thee to stop the train!" she silently prayer. "I cannot suffer the pangs of delay in waiting another day to see thee." The wheels of the snorting train continued to move round and round, but there was no onward progress. The engineer and passengers descended to the platform to view the phenomenon. An English railroad guard approached Abhoya and her husband. Contrary to all precedent, the guard volunteered his services. "Babu," he said, "give me the money. I will buy your tickets while you get aboard." As soon as the couple was seated and had received the tickets, the train slowly moved forward. In panic, the engineer and passangers clambered again to their places, knowing neither how hte train started nor why it had stopped in the first place. Arriving at hte home of Lahiri Mahasaya in Banaras, Abhoya silently prostrated herself before the master, and tried to touch his feet. "Compose yourself, Abhoya," he remarked. "How you love to bother me! As if you could not have come here by the next train! - *More Lahiri Mahasaya miracle stories can be found in this chapter of this book.

What I can’t face is the fact that that’s never it. I’m not repulsive but I’m not right either. It's a constant, gnawing, boring distraction. I don’t know whether to treat myself or whip myself. Lose a pound and buy a woolly or go to the pictures and eat chocs and indulge how much I hate myself. What a stupid waste of time and effort.

The resignation, apathy, dislocation and sheer fatigue at the attritional suffering – quite apart from the suffocating repression of the regime – meant, however, that the collapsing morale could not be converted into a revolutionary fervour. Reports by observers from neutral countries smuggled out to the western Allies provided graphic descriptions of the depressed mood in Berlin as preparations were made for the defence of the city, the chaotic situation on the railways, panic buying of food in central Germany and the appalling living conditions throughout the country.

But we don’t buy the market; we are interested only in quality businesses. Hence, it would be nice to find out the extent of the negative punctuation in the companies we bought. We had been tracking many businesses for years, and we were well prepared when the pandemic panic struck in March 2020.

We don’t sell when stock prices rise suddenly. These nonactions during market euphoria have been as important as—actually, more important than—our acts of buying during market panics. As I wrote earlier, as of June 2022, out of our portfolio of twenty-four businesses (excluding the ones bought during the previous two years), we had multiplied our money by more than ten times in INR in nine (of these, the largest multiple, 82×, was for Page, and the smallest, 13×, was for Info Edge). In five of these nine, our holding period had been more than eleven years, and we had held the remaining ten-baggers for more than eight years. Why do we not sell when stock prices rise dramatically

But every now and then, I felt the urge to buy a jar of Manic Panic and follow my tramp stamp wherever it might lead.

Out of New York came a governor from the moneyed class, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and he drove Murray to fits—being from that hated family. (FDR’s cousin, Teddy, had forced Murray to remove a white supremacist plank from the Oklahoma constitution before he would allow it to join the union.) At first, Franklin Roosevelt was dismissed as a man without heft, a dilettante running on one of the nation’s great names. Then he took up the cause of the “forgotten man”—the broken farmer on the plains, the apple vendor in the city, the factory hand now hitting the rails. And though he spoke with an accent that sounded funny to anyone outside the mid-Atlantic states, and he seemed a bit jaunty with that cigarette holder, Roosevelt roused people with a blend of hope and outrage. He knew hardship and the kind of emotional panic that comes when your world collapses. He had been felled by double pneumonia in 1918, which nearly killed him, and polio in 1921, which left him partially paralyzed. He had been told time and again in the prime of his young adulthood that he had no future, that he would not walk again, that he might not live much longer. “If you spent two years in bed trying to wiggle your toe, after that anything would seem easy,” he said. Hoover believed the cure for the Depression was to prime the pump at the producer end, helping factories and business owners get up and running again. Goods would roll off the lines, prosperity would follow. Roosevelt said it made no sense to gin up the machines of production if people could not afford to buy what came out the factory door. “These unhappy times call for the building of plans that rest upon the forgotten, the unorganized, the indispensable units of economic powers,” FDR said on April 7, 1932, in a radio speech that defined the central theme of his campaign. He called for faith “in the forgotten man at the bottom of the economic pyramid.” That forgotten man was likely to be a person with prairie dirt under the fingernails. “How much do the shallow thinkers realize that approximately one half of our population, fifty or sixty million people, earn their living by farming or in small towns where existence immediately depends on farms?

the Bank Holiday should be extended for another three days to buy time for the panic to subside.

As I wrote, despite the malicious craft practiced by Hochschild and others, I am glad that an extensive documentary record of the EIC and of European colonies more generally survives, not that I expect any honest use of them in our current moral panic. Hochschild was merely an early entry into a genre that has since blossomed into an industry of scholars who “interrogate” the archives to cough up evidence of the evils of the West. There is of course no such documentary record of the horrific conditions the Europeans replaced, and in any case most Western readers would not buy a book on endemic venereal disease in Africa or stool disputes among the Kuba. A salacious tale on the Belgian king and his mistresses torturing black people to pay for their follies? Now you’re talking!

In the realm of financial markets, volatility is an inherent characteristic. Prices of stocks, commodities, and other securities can experience significant fluctuations within short periods. To manage such volatility and protect the interests of investors, circuit breakers are implemented. These circuit breakers impose upper and lower limits on price movements, which temporarily halt trading. In this blog post, we will explore the concept of upper and lower circuit limits, their purpose, and how they impact the functioning of financial markets. Defining Upper and Lower Circuit Limits Upper and lower circuit limits are predetermined price thresholds that trigger temporary trading halts. These limits are set by exchanges or regulatory bodies to prevent extreme price movements and provide stability to the market. When the price of a security reaches or breaches the upper or lower circuit limit, trading is paused for a specified period. This allows market participants to reevaluate their positions and absorb the information driving the price volatility. The Purpose of Circuit Breakers: The primary objective of circuit breakers is to safeguard the financial markets from excessive price volatility and potential panic selling or buying. These mechanisms help prevent extreme price movements that could be detrimental to market stability and investor confidence. By temporarily halting trading, circuit breakers provide a cooling-off period, allowing participants to assess new information and avoid making impulsive decisions. Moreover, circuit breakers ensure orderly trading and prevent the market from being dominated by high-frequency trading strategies that thrive on short-term price fluctuations. They offer investors an opportunity to reassess their strategies and risk exposure, reducing the likelihood of knee-jerk reactions based on short-term market movements. Understanding the Upper Circuit Limit : The upper circuit limit represents the maximum price movement permitted for security within a trading session. When the price of a security reaches or surpasses the upper circuit limit, trading in that security is halted. The upper circuit limit aims to prevent excessive speculative buying and provides a pause for market participants to analyze the new information or demand driving the price surge. During the trading halt, market participants can evaluate the situation, adjust their strategies, and determine whether to buy, sell, or hold the security when trading resumes. The duration of the halt varies depending on the exchange or regulatory body and is typically predetermined. Understanding the Lower Circuit Limit: Conversely, the lower circuit limit represents the minimum price movement allowed for security. When the price of a security falls to or breaches the lower circuit limit, trading is halted. The lower circuit limit is designed to prevent panic selling and provides market participants with an opportunity to reassess their positions. Similar to the upper circuit limit, the duration of the trading halt triggered by a lower circuit limit breach is typically predetermined. During this time, investors can evaluate the reasons behind the price decline, analyze market conditions, and make informed decisions. Impact of Circuit Breakers on Financial Markets: Circuit breakers play a crucial role in maintaining market stability, particularly during periods of heightened volatility and uncertainty. By temporarily halting trading, they allow time for market participants to process new information, reassess their positions, and avoid making impulsive decisions based on short-term price movements. Circuit breakers also facilitate the restoration of liquidity in the market. When trading is halted, market makers and other participants have an opportunity to recalibrate their pricing and liquidity provision strategies, which can help smooth out price discrepancies and enhance market efficiency.

Yes, but what about tomorrow?” “There’ll be no tomorrow!” “But if there is. Say that there is—just for the sake of argument. That anger might take shape as something serious. After all, you know, the whole financial world’s been in a nose-dive the last few months. The stock market has crashed three separate times, or haven’t you noticed? Sensible investors don’t really believe the world is coming to an end, but they think other investors might start to think so, and so the smart ones sell out before the panic begins—thus touching off the panic themselves. And then they buy back afterward, and sell again as soon as the market rallies, and begin the whole downward cycle all over again. And what do you think has happened to business? Johnny Public doesn’t believe you either, but there’s no sense buying new porch furniture just now, is there? Better to hang on to your money, just in case, or put it into canned goods and ammunition, and let the furniture wait. “You see the point, Dr. Athor. Just as soon as this is all over, the business interests will be after your hide. They’ll say that if crackpots—begging your pardon—crackpots in the guise of serious scientists can upset the world’s entire economy any time they want simply by making some cockeyed prediction, then it’s up to the world to keep such things from happening. The sparks will fly, Doctor.

So, when the market has moved sharply lower in a price waterfall and a bearish trend, supported by masses of volume, this is a buying climax. It is the wholesalers who are buying and the retail traders who are panic selling. A buying climax for us represents an opportunity.

Look how the Harlem’s stock has risen! If that franchise were, perchance, to be rescinded, think how fast the stock would drop! If the aldermen were to sell the Harlem short—if they were to speculate on an anticipated drop in the stock’s price by borrowing shares they did not own, selling them, and then buying them back at a much lower price to replace the borrowed shares—think how much money there was to be made as the stock plummeted! What he said made eminent sense to the honorable aldermen. Led by Drew, they each borrowed as much money as possible and began shorting the Harlem’s stock, selling, selling, always selling. Learning of the scheme, the Commodore began buying. When the council repealed the ordinance on June 25 and the court of common pleas issued an injunction to prohibit construction of the new Harlem line along Broadway to the Battery, the aldermen gleefully sat back and waited for the stock to dive. As it fell from 110 to 72, they cheered. Their glee, however, turned to terror the next day when, inexorably, inexplicably, horribly, the stock began rising. The Commodore had cornered the market—had bought every outstanding share of the Harlem. By June 26, the stock was at 97lA. The next day it rose again, up to 106. In a panic, the august aldermen repealed their repeal of the franchise to placate the Commodore. That didn’t help. The stock continued to rise. All the while, they begged the Commodore to stop, to allow them to buy the stock back from him to cover their short positions. No, the Commodore said. It was important for them to learn their lesson. The stock continued to rise: to 150, to 170, to 179. There was no limit to their losses. The higher the stock rose, the more money they were losing. The only way to stop these terrible losses was to buy back stock to replace their borrowed shares, but there was not a single share available.

only wished that in some way it was possible for him to separate his private and professional lives. And then he remembered again those eighteen women who had been slaughtered in Shanghai, their husbands and children, fathers and mothers, and the thought put his own problems back into their proper perspective. Xinxin saw Li immediately, standing among the waiting crowds on the other side of the Arrivals gate, and she went running to leap up into his arms. Margaret smiled at the sight of the two of them together. Li liked to present an image of himself as tough and unyielding, a hard man, with his flat-top crewcut and his square, jutting jaw. Margaret knew him, in reality, to be a big softie. But the smile on her face froze as Li turned, with Xinxin in his arms, to introduce her to the woman standing on his right. Mei-Ling was all smiles and sweetness, shaking Xinxin’s hand and then delving into her purse for a pack of candy. Xinxin’s initial shyness immediately evaporated and lights shone in her eyes. How easily the affections of a child could be bought. Margaret remembered that in her panic at seeing the man with the hare-lip in Beijing, she had forgotten to buy the mints for Xinxin. Li put the child back down, and Mei-Ling spoke rapidly to her, eliciting an immediate smiling response. She held out her hand which Xinxin took without hesitation, and the two of them headed off towards the shops on the far side of the concourse. Li turned self-consciously to meet Margaret. Margaret thrust Xinxin’s case into his chest. ‘Maybe Mei-Ling would like to carry her bag for her as well.’ Li’s heart sank, but Margaret wasn’t finished yet. ‘Did you have to bring her with you?’ Li sighed. ‘I do not have transport here. She offered me a lift. All right?

... he rushed to the calendar where he jotted everything from Mama's Birthday to Buy New Toothbrush so that each month became a solid ink-black block of accomplishment.

In an interview with Business Wire in November 2011, Buffett said, “If you understand chapters 8 and 20 of The Intelligent Investor (Benjamin Graham, 1949) and chapter 12 of The General Theory (John Maynard Keynes, 1936), you don’t need to read anything else and you can turn off your TV.”2 This advice from Buffett references two classics from the field of investing and economics. Chapter 8 of Graham’s book talks about not letting the mood swings of Mr. Market coax us into speculating, selling in panic, or trying to time the market. Chapter 20 explains that, after careful analysis of a company’s ongoing business and its prospects for future earnings, we should consider buying only if its current price implies a large margin of safety. In chapter 12 of The General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money (“The State of Long-Term Expectation”), Keynes remarks that most professional investors and speculators were “largely concerned, not with making superior long-term forecasts of the probable yield of an investment over

Propelled by the oil shock, fears of scarcity wafted across the nation like a bad smell. Rumors of shortages in any number of goods—gasoline, salmon, cheese, onions, raisins—caused brief, unwarranted episodes of anxiety, some of them about commodities one would never imagine could run out. The Great Toilet Paper Panic of 1973 occurred after talk-show host Johnny Carson joked about a shortage, causing frightened consumers to buy out stores.

So, when the market has moved sharply lower in a price waterfall and a bearish trend, supported by masses of volume, this is a buying climax. It is the wholesalers who are buying and the retail traders who are panic selling. A buying climax for us represents an opportunity. Likewise, at the top of a bull trend, where we see sustained high volumes, then this is a selling climax. The wholesalers are selling to the retail traders and investors who are buying on the expectation of the market going to the moon. This is one of the most powerful emotions retail traders face, the fear of missing out or FOMO.

just enough money to buy our flat from the council, although each month I still feel the same panic that I might not be able to meet my mortgage payment. I always do manage it but the fear is still there, as familiar by now as the sound of my own breath. I’ve always been anxious about money. Because if something happens – if I get sick or the boiler breaks or I suddenly need something important for Ella, there’s no one to bail us out.

Usually what happens is, I spend half an hour lusting after scarves in Denny and George, then go off to Accessorize and buy something to cheer myself up. I’ve got a whole drawerful of Denny and George substitutes. “Hi,” I say, trying to stay calm. “You’re … you’re having a sale.” “Yes.” The blond girl smiles. “Bit unusual for us.” My eyes sweep the room. I can see rows of scarves, neatly folded, with dark green “50 percent off” signs above them. Printed velvet, beaded silk, embroidered cashmere, all with the distinctive “Denny and George” signature. They’re everywhere. I don’t know where to start. I think I’m having a panic attack.

A giant gleaming Tesco supermarket had opened a few months previously, and, as is the way with these out-of-town monoliths, it exerted a gravitational pill that could be felt for many miles. Buy one get one free is, after all, hard to resist.

Another reason why disasters seem so scary is that many victims tend to see them as a whole rather than divide them into much smaller and more manageable problems. A disaster can seem overwhelming when confronted with everything at once —but if you dice it into its tiny parts and knock them off one at a time, the whole thing can seem as easy as eating a lavish dinner one bite at a time. In a disaster you must also plan for disruption as well as destruction. Death and damage may make the news, but in almost every disaster far more lives are disrupted than destroyed. Wit­ness the tornado that struck Joplin, Missouri, in May 2011 and killed 158 people. The path of death and destruction was less than a mile wide and only 22 miles long —but within thirty miles 160,000 citizens whose property didn’t suffer a dime of damage were profoundly disrupted by the carnage, loss of power and water, suspension of civic services, and inability to buy food, gas, and other necessities. You may rightfully believe your chances of dying in a disaster in your lifetime may be nearly nil, but the chances of your life being disrupted by a disaster in the next decade is nearly a sure thing. Not only should you prepare for disasters, you should learn to premeditate them. Prepare concerns the body; premeditate concerns the mind. Everywhere you go, think what could happen and how you might/could/would/should respond. Use your imagination. Fill your brain with these visualizations —run mind-movies in your head —develop a repertoire —until when you walk into a building/room/situation you’ll automatically know what to do. If a disaster does ambush you —sure you’re apt to panic, but in seconds your memory will load the proper video into your mobile disk drive and you’ll feel like you’re watching a scary movie for the second time and you’ll know what to expect and how to react. That’s why this book is important: its manner of vivifying disasters kickstarts and streamlines your acquiring these premeditations, which lays the foundation for satisfying your needs when a disaster catches you by surprise.

Mortar shells whizzed through Martyrs’ Square, adding a few more martyrs to a long list. Mortar shells landed on hospitals, where the sick got sicker and pregnant women gave birth to premature babies. Mortar shells fell on holy places, where people prayed this would not be their last day. A barrage of mortar shells fell on schools, on marketplaces, on shops and shoppers, and on banks. Panic, horror, and hysteria took hold of the city. Those who were inside buildings rushed out, and those in the streets frantically hurried into buildings. The injured and the dead were left lying in the streets. Run for your life or join the dead. Everyone was searching for a way out: by car, by bus, on a truck, on a cart, on a bike. Looting was pervasive. Robberies were many. There was no water, no electricity, and no fuel. No ovens to bake a loaf of bread, or shops to buy food from—or, for that matter, banks from which to withdraw money.