Quotes About Mosca

I beat Angelo Mosca, one of the great football players - nobody beat him - I beat him at Maple Leaf Gardens. I became champion and I cannot forget Maple Leaf Gardens.

Desperation is a millstone. It wears away at the very soul, grinding away pity, kindness, humanity and courage. But sometimes it whets the mind to a sharpened point and creates moments of true brilliance. And standing there, nose tickled by the dusty hide of the stuffed deer head, such a moment visited Mosca Mye.

It was hopeless. She was flawless. She was a sunbeam. Mosca gave up and got on with hating her.

My good lady,' interrupted Clent, 'are you telling me that he is not the Luck? That you have in some way obfuscated the chronology of his nativity?' Seconds passed. A beetle flew into Mistress Leap's hair while she stared at Clent, then it struggled free and flew off again. 'Did you lie about when he was born?' translated Mosca.

Fear of the Locksmiths and Skellow's thumb-cutting knife flooded Mosca but did not fill her. Somehow there was room in her core for an angry little knot of excitement, tight and fierce as a pike's grin.

One of the two of us , thought Mosca, is in a lot of trouble right now. I wonder which of us it is? She isn't turning pale or plucking at her handkerchief. Oh draggles, I think it's me.

Until yesterday Mosca had been trapped between two rivers, desperate to get out before winter arrived. Toll had looked like her only means of escape. Now, however, she wondered if she had traded one prison for another, a smaller prison with high walls. If she was not out of it before her allotted time as a visitor ended, then the mysterious night town with its twilight cacophony would claim her.