There will be no redemption because the men who run this place do not want redemption. They want to be as near to hell as they can.

The only time "early bloomer" has ever been applied to me is vis-a-vis my premature apprehension of the deep dread-of-existence thing. In all other cases, I plod and tromp along. My knuckles? Well dragged.

Sanctimony and self-regard are as American as smallpox blankets and supersize meals.

The city knows you better than any living person because it has seen you when you are alone.

Pain could be killed. Sadness could not, but the drugs did shut its mouth for a time.

A society manufactures the heroes it requires.

The fallout from slavery is ongoing. I am not sure the issue of race in America will ever be completely solved.