"The man was running away with the rest, and selling his papers for a shilling each as he ran—a grotesque mingling of profit and panic."

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Well, I don't like your clothes. You look perfectly ridiculous in them. Why on earth don't you go up and change? It's perfectly childish to be in mourning for a man who is actually staying a whole week with you in your house as a guest. I call it grotesque.

— Oscar Wilde