Best 8 quotes of Alex Kotlowitz on MyQuotes

A Crime So Monstrous is a remarkably brave and unflinching piece of reportage and storytelling. Ben Skinner bears witness, sharing stories so unsettling, so neglected, so chilling they will leave you shaking with anger. This should be required reading for policy makers around the world - and, for that matter, anyone concerned about the human condition.

Freedom is like holding a small bird. If you squeeze it too hard, you will kill it. But if you don't hold it firmly enough, it will fly away. Indeed, freedom can be both fragile and elusive, and so-as the McCormick Tribune Freedom Museum so powerfully reminds us-it requires our eternal vigilance, our willingness, our ability, our conviction to stand up for that which we think is right.

I tend to write about people. I look at things from the bottom up and from the perspective of outsiders. A part of me just identifies with them. It's my messed up internal nature that I always feel like an outsider. It's just my nature. At film festivals, I was an outsider for sure, but I always felt like one as well. I have that feeling at parties, too. I don't belong there.

Some of the worst neighborhoods are so physically isolated, and more than anything, they're spiritually isolated. They're so close and yet so far. A lot of Chicagoans might not spend any time there, and what contact they do have is through what they see in the news, which is a little unsettling.

The power of good film is being there in the moment.

There's something exhilarating about telling stories that haven't been shared before and haven't been told publicly before. The last thing I want to be doing is telling stories other people have already told. That's not to say that there isn't important work out there about people in positions of power, but I know my strength. Even when I was at the Wall Street Journal 10 years ago, this is what I wrote about.

There are so many . . . who carry the violence, who keep moving forward enshrouded in its aftermath. Yet there doesn't seem to be any sense of urgency, especially among the rest of us.

The shooting doesn't end. Nor does the grinding poverty. Or the deeply rooted segregation. Or the easy availability of guns. Or the shuttered schools and boarded-up homes. Or the tensions between police and residents. And yet each shooting is unlike the last, every exposed and bruised life exposed and bruised in its own way.