God, Let Me Remember All Good Losers.

I Have Become Infected, Now That I See How Beautifully A Book Is Coming Out Of All This.

I Wrote Poems In My Corner Of The Brooks Street Station. I Sent Them To Two Editors Who Rejected Them Right Off. I Read Those Letters Of Rejection Years Later And I Agreed With Those Editors.

Man Is A Long Time Coming. Man Will Yet Win. Brother May Yet Line Up With Brother: This Old Anvil Laughs At Many Broken Hammers.there Are Men Who Can't Be Bought.

Didn't You Tie The Mittens On Her Feet (wednesday Evening's) Extra Special Nice? Yes--she Is An Extra Special Nice Pigeon. She Cries For Pity When She Wants Pity. And She Shuts Her Eyes When She Doesn't Want To Look At You. And If You Look Deep In Her Eyes When Her Eyes Are Open You Will See Lights There Exactly Like The Lights On The Pastures And The Meadows When The Mist Is Drifting On A Wednesday Evening Just Between The Twilight And Gloaming.

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Grease But The Quacking Duck Gets Shot.