I spotted a can in the corner whose red label read SADNESS. Was there so much of it they could can it and sell it? A bolt of pain went through my intestines before I realized that it was not SADNESS but SARDINES.

Chicago is not a bad place to live. But the usual story of immigration is the happy fulfillment of human potential in America that is not available anywhere else - it's propaganda, really. It's more complicated than that.

I don't know the numbers, but roughly half of the people who came through Ellis Island returned home. They came here to make money, not to make history.

It's so internalized, the way your mind works in relation to anything - it's a process, but then it isn't. It's working all the time.

Lord, why did you leave me in these woods?

I don't think that everyone should have a philosophical answer to any given question. There are things that need to be done.

When I look at my old pictures, all I can see is what I used to be but am no longer. I think: What I can see is what I am not.