Any Writer Who Knows What He's Doing

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.

To Literary Critics A Book Is Assumed To Be Guilty Until It Proves Itself Innocent.

... Chicago Divided Your Heart. Leaving You Loving The Joint For Keeps. Yet Knowing It Never Can Love You.

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.