....
Sometimes it is nothing but a shadow passing on the sun; sometimes nothing but the torrid milky light of August, or the naked sprawling ugliness and squalid decencies of streets in Brooklyn fading in the weary vistas of that milky light and evoking the intolerable misery of countless drab and nameless lives. Sometimes it is just the barren horror of raw concrete, or the heat blazing on a million beetles of machinery darting through the torrid streets, or the cindered weariness of parking spaces, or the slamming smash and racket of the El, or the driven manswarm of the earth, thrusting on forever in exacerbated fury, going nowhere in a hurry."
Thomas Wolfe
Excerpted from "God's Lonely Man", 1935.
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