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

If you have a choice of two things and can't decide, take both.

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

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.

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

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.

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