As for what you're calling hard luck - well, we made New England out of it. That and codfish.

Whatever poetry that was in me was coming out in the form of constructing art books!

If two New Hampshiremen aren't a match for the devil, we might as well give the country back to the Indians.

I had lost something in my youth and made money instead.

Few people have written significant books about San Francisco. Robert Duncan was, in my opinion, often in the clouds. If he walked the streets a lot he didn't write about as such.

When Daniel Boone goes by at night The phantom deer arise And all lost, wild America Is burning in their eyes.

Money is sullen And wisdom is sly, But youth is the pollen That blows through the sky And does not ask why.