When you know you are dying, self-deceptions fly from your bedside like embers off a bonfire.

When you know you are dying, self-deceptions fly from your bedside like embers off a bonfire.

The cracks in old friendships are measured in awkward pauses.

By now, the camouflage had become my skin. My friends wouldn't want to know. Who would want to know? I certainly didn't want to know. All I wanted was to hold my assumptions to the light, and to watch them sparkle in their facets, as all sham gemstones do.

Passion and platonic friendliness, often contrary siblings, frequently wear similar faces to hide the great distance between them.

A tragedy's first act is crowded with supporting players: witnesses crimping their faces, policemen scribbling in pads and making radio calls, EMS guys unfolding equipment, tubes and wheels.

Sin in the Second City is a masterful history lesson, a harrowing biography, and - best of all - a superfun read. The Everleigh story closely follows the turns of American history like a little sister. I can't recommend this book loudly enough.