There's People In Hell Who Want Ice

The Avocation Of Assessing The Failures Of Better Men Can Be Turned Into A Comfortable Livelihood, Providing You Back It Up With A Ph.d.

The Great Trains Howling From Track To Track All Night. The Taut And Telegraphic Murmur Of Ten Thousand City Wires, Drawn Most Cruelly Against A City Sky. The Rush Of City Waters, Beneath The City Streets. The Passionate Passing Of The Night's Last El.

I'm Not Against Sentimentality. I Think You Need It. I Mean, I Don't Think You Get A True Picture Of People Without It In Writing... It's A Kind Of Poetry, It's An Emotional Poetry, And, To Bring It Back To The Literary Scene, I Don't Think Anything Is True That Doesn't Have It, That Doesn't Have Poetry In It.

...he Said, With Sort Of A Little Derisive Smile, "how Can You Walk Down The Street With All This Stuff Going On Inside You?" I Said, "i Don't Know How You Can Walk Down The Street With Nothing Going On Inside You.

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.