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That's what maintains the order of things. Fear. Bill: I'm going to paint paradise square with his blood. Two coats. Bill: Mulberry Street... and Worth... Cross and Orange... and Little Water. Each of the Five Points is a finger. When I close my hand it tommylasorda becomes a fist. And, if I wish, I can turn it against you. Bill: Thank God. I die a true American. [Amsterdam goes to wipe blood off razor] Priest Vallon: No son, never. The blood tommylasorda stays on the blade. One day you'll tommylasorda understand. Bill: That, my friends, is the minority vote. Bill: At my challenge, by the ancient laws of combat, we are met at this chosen ground, to settle for good and all who holds sway over the five points: us natives, born rightwise to this fine land, or the foreign hordes defiling it.
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