Leroy Neiman Lights of Broadway

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Assassins became important through skilful inhumations. There were many roads to prominence, but you could see them, you could work them out. They made some sort of sense.
Whereas these two people had merely moved interestingly in front of this new‑fangled moving‑picture machinery. The rankest actor in the city’s theatre was a mufti‑skilled master of thespianism by comparison to them, but it
And, as the common people had been filing into the stalls, his razor‑keen hearing had picked up the conversation of two of them:
‘Who’s that up there?’
‘That’s Victor Maraschino and Delores De Syn! Do you know nothing?’
‘I mean the tall guy in black.’
‘Oh, dunno who he is. Just some bigwig, I expect.’wouldn’t occur to anyone to line the streets and shout out his name.The Patrician had never visited the clicks before. As far as he could ascertain, Victor Maraschino was famous for a sort of smouldering look that had middle-aged ladies who should know better swooning in the aisles, and Miss De Syn’s forte was acting languidly, slapping faces, and looking fantastic while lying among silken cushions.While he, Patrician of Ankh‑Morpork, ruled the city, preserved the city, loved the city, hated the city and had spent a lifetime in the service of the city . . .