For we know when a nation goes down and never comes back, when a society or a civilization perishes, one condition may always be found. They forgot where they came from. They lost sight of what brought them along.

Now I am here - now read me - give me a name.

A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.

Poetry is a shuffling of boxes of illusions buckled with a strap of facts.

By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.

I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.

Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?