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For dreams, too, are ghosts, desires chased in sleep, gone by morning.

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America had invented itself. It continued to invent itself as it went along. Sometimes its virtues made it the envy of the world. Sometimes it betraye...more

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Every city is a ghost.New buildings rise upon the bones of the old so that each shiny steel bean, each tower of brick carries within it the memories o...more

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Careful there, Poet. I might start to believe you.

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People always fear what they don't understand, Evangeline. History proves that.

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The wind swoops over the tenements on Orchard Street, where some of those starry-eyed dreams have died and yet other dreams are being born into squalo...more