The Only Way I Could Finish A

Loving Chicago Is Like Loving A Woman With A Broken Nose.

He Was Falling Between Glacial Walls, He Didn't Know How Anyone Could Fall So Far Away From Everyone Else In The World. So Far To Fall, So Cold All The Way, So Steep And Dark Between Those Morphine-coloured Walls.

Thinking Of Poe, Thinking Of Mark Twain And Vachel Lindsay, Thinking Of Jack London And Tom Wolfe, One Begins To Feel There Is Almost No Way Of Becoming A Creative Writer In America Without Being A Loser.

For The Masses Who Do The City's Labor Also Keep The City's Heart.

Yet Once You've Come To Be Part Of This Particular Patch, You'll Never Love Another. Like Loving A Woman With A Broken Nose, You May Well Find Lovelier Lovelies. But Never A Lovely So Real.