I moved up over Lower East Side and I was adopted by eight foster parents; I lived all over New York City with these parents, man, till I was about ten years old.

If you believe you're a poet, then you're saved.

Anyway, I lived on the streets and did pretty good until I got caught stealing, what was it? I kicked in a restaurant window, went in and took all the food that I wanted, and while coming out I was grabbed.

I feel capitol punishment is dooming U.S.A.

Ah, if I were dictator I'd have poets throwing bombs!

The lucky thing was that I was Italian; when the other Italians saw me fight back, they came to my defence.

The fall of man stands a lie before Beethoven, a truth before Hitler.