The Fall Of Man Stands A Lie

Standing On A Street Corner Waiting For No One Is Power.

Spirit Is Life. It Flows Thru The Death Of Me Endlessly Like A River Unafraid Of Becoming The Sea.

If You Believe You're A Poet, Then You're Saved.

The Lucky Thing Was That I Was Italian; When The Other Italians Saw Me Fight Back, They Came To My Defence.

I Feel I Want To Be Wise With White Hair In A Tall Library In A Deep Chair By A Fireplace.