The Wind Bit Hard At

Poetry Is The Arithmetic Of The Easiest Way And The Primrose Path, Matched Up With Foam-flanked Horses, Bloody Knuckles, And Bones, On The Hard Ways To The Stars.

I Doubt If You Can Have A Truly Wild Party Without Liquor.

Always The Path Of American Destiny Has Been Into The Unknown. Always There Arose Enough Reserves Of Strength, Balances Of Sanity, Portions Of Wisdom To Carry The Nation Through To A Fresh Start With Ever-renewing Vitality.

I Decided I Would Go To Chicago And Try My Luck As A Writer After Those Eight Months As A Fireman.

Life Is Like An Onion. You Peel It Off One Layer At A Time, And Sometimes You Weep.