They can't hurt me. Sure, they can crush you and kill you. They can lay you out on 42nd and Broadway and put hoses on you and flush you in the sewers and put you on the subway and carry you out to Coney island and bury you on the Ferris wheel. But I refuse to sit here and worry about dying.

Michelangelo indeed could have carved out your features.

We don't see the people that vice destroys. We just see the glamour of it - everywhere we look, from billboard signs to movies, to newspapers, to magazines. We see the destruction of human life.

A million faces at my feet but all I see are dark eyes.

The land of milk and honey, they say it is the land of money.

The land created me. I'm wild and lonesome. Even as I travel the cities, I'm more at home in the vacant lots.

Because Dickens and Dostoyevsky and Woody Guthrie were telling their stories much better than I ever could, I decided to stick to my own mind.