I remember the people I knew in prison; I was very fortunate to know them - they came from 1910, 1920, 1930.
I feel capitol punishment is dooming U.S.A.
Ah, if I were dictator I'd have poets throwing bombs!
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.
The fall of man stands a lie before Beethoven, a truth before Hitler.
They, that unnamed they, they've knocked me down but I got up. I always get up -- and I swear when I went down quite often I took the fall; nothing moves a mountain but itself. They, I've long ago named them me.