“‘Stop it, Uriah. Keep to your place. Be umble.’ That’s what this city is, you know. You should know, you wrote about it. The darkness. The rage and pain of thousands like me, kept in our places until we die there. My place? This is my place. It’s always been my place. Not hers. Not Dorian Gray’s. Not yours, Dr. Sutherland, David Copperfield, Dickens’s favorite child. Mine. Control it? I don’t need to control it. It’s part of me. Let it spread until it devours the whole world. It’s mine.”
