Captives of the Flame

I wanted to wield together a prose luminous as twenty sets of headlights flung down a night road; I wanted my words tinged with the green of mercury vapor street lamps seen through a shaling of oak leaves in the park past midnight. I needed phrases that would break open like thunder or leave a brush as gentle as willow boughs passed in a dark room.... The finest writing is always the finest delineation of surfaces.