My father took me back home, back to Greenwich Village, and he thought by taking me out of the orphanage he'd be out of the World War too. But no way - they got him anyway. He went in the Navy and then I lived on the streets.

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.

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

Standing on a street corner waiting for no one is power.

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.

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

Spirit is Life. It flows thru the death of me endlessly like a river unafraid of becoming the sea.