And when with toil his head declines, And at his western gate his crimson banner shines, Thou thought'st some conflagrated city drank The lightning of his ire, and into ashes shrank.

THOMAS. … Does my anger deserve your condescension? ANDIE. I wasn't condescending you; I was just asking. THOMAS. No. You said “angry black man.” Like my anger only exists in a stereotype. That's condescending.

Albemarle Street closed by a lock of carriages

The pen-and-paper questionnaires were distributed to students at the beginning of lessons and collected at the end.