Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work- I am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at Gettysburg. And pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years,and passengers ask the conductor- What place is this? Where are we now? I am the grass. Let me work.

I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes, so live not in your yesterdays, no just for tomorrow, but in the here and now. Keep moving and forget the post mortems; and remember, no one can get the jump on the future.

I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.

The squeaky wheel gets the grease but the quacking duck gets shot.

People lie because they don't remember clear what they saw. People lie because they can't help making a story better than it was the way it happened.

Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.

I take you and pile high the memories. Death will break her claws on some I keep.