Come on up, boys -I'm dead.

If you want a definition of poetry, say: Poetry is what makes me laugh or cry or yawn, what makes my toenails twinkle, what makes me want to do this or that or nothing and let it go at that.

When one burns one's bridges, what a very nice fire it makes.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right, Because their words had forked no lightning they Do not go gentle into that good night.

And time cast forth my mortal creature To drift or drown upon the seas Acquainted with the salt adventure Of tides that never touch the shores. - I who was rich was made the richer By sipping at the the vine of days.

And books which told me everything about the wasp, except why.

I have just had eighteen whiskeys in a row. I do believe that is a record.