Whenever spring comes to New York I can't stand the suggestion of the land that come blowing over the river from New Jersey and I've got to go. So I went.

I took a straight picture that made me look like a thirty-year-old Italian who'd kill anybody who said something against his mother.

Don't use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.

For life is holy and every moment is precious.

You were my last chance' she's said but don't all women say that? - But can it be by 'last chance' she doesn't mean mere marriage but some profoundly sad realization of something in me she really needs to go on living, at least that impression coming across anyway on the force of all the gloom we've shared -

Maybe that's what life is... a wink of the eye and winking stars.

You can't teach the old maestro a new tune.