It is a great feeling to know that from a window I can go to books to cans of beer to past loves. And from these gather enough dream to sneak out a back door.

But when the conquered spirit breaks free And indicates a new light Who'll take care of the cats?

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

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

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.

It is a great feeling to know that from a window I can go to books to cans of beer to past loves. And from these gather enough dream to sneak out a back door.

I remember the people I knew in prison; I was very fortunate to know them - they came from 1910, 1920, 1930.