Whenever I Finish A Book, I Start

Beneath The Gore And Smoke And Loam, This Book Is About The Evanescence Of Life, And Why Some Men Choose To Fill Their Brief Allotment Of Time Engaging The Impossible, Others In The Manufacture Of Sorrow. In The End It Is A Story Of The Ineluctable Conflict Between Good And Evil, Daylight And Darkness, The White City And The Black.

Beneath The Stars The Lake Lay Dark And Sombre," Stead Wrote, "but On Its Shores Gleamed And Glowed In Golden Radiance The Ivory City, Beautiful As A Poet's Dream, Silent As A City Of The Dead.

Time Lost Can Never Be Recovered...and This Should Be Written In Flaming Letters Everywhere.

It Was So Easy To Disappear, So Easy To Deny Knowledge, So Very Easy In The Smoke And Din To Mask That Something Dark Had Taken Root. This Was Chicago, On The Eve Of The Greatest Fair In History.

No One Cared What St. Louis Thought, Although The City Got A Wink For Pluck.