"The rumour now spread widely that these houses contained the leaders of a vast band of terrorists, who on a designated day were to launch an orgy of slaughter for the extermination of America and of all the fine old traditions which The Street had loved. Handbills and papers fluttered about filthy gutters; handbills and papers printed in many tongues and in many characters, yet all bearing messages of crime and rebellion. In these writings the people were urged to tear down the laws and virtues that our fathers had exalted; to stamp out the soul of the old America—the soul that was bequeathed through a thousand and a half years of Anglo-Saxon freedom, justice, and moderation."

"... as I explored Cap Haitian during a day off, I thought I’d finally found my grail, a Haitian pet store! Walking near the Cap version of the Marché de Fer, I stumbled into an alley and beheld my quarry. There, at the end of the alley, was a nicely dressed Haitian woman with cages and cages of cats! People would walk by and admire them. They mewed prettily, trying to find someone to adopt them. Soon, a young woman walked up and began haggling in rapid Creole (too fast for my poor understanding of the tongue.) Back and forth they went until a bargain had been struck. I watched as the selected cat was retrieved for the new pet owner. I imagined her taking it home to some small child, a happy moment for all. As I got ready to take a picture of this special Kodak moment, the shop owner picked up the cat, grabbed its head, twisted it with a single motion and an audible ‘SNAP’. As the dead cat fell limp, she deftly whipped out a skinning knife, removed the skin, gutted the innards and wrapped the meat back into the skin. All in fewer moments than I could count."