Trouble And Pain Were What Kept A

My Greatest Problem Was Stamps, Envelopes, Paper And Wine, With The World On The Edge Of World War Ii.

I Drive Around The Streets An Inch Away From Weeping, Ashamed Of My Sentimentality And Possible Love.

The Wisdom To Quit Is All We Have Left.

I Guess The Only Time Most People Think About Injustice Is When It Happens To Them.

To Me Art (poetry) Is A Continuous And Continuing Process And That When A Man Fails To Write Good Poetry He Fails To Live Fully Or Well.