Three Years Ago, The White Hope Of

I Have Written A Raucous Valentine To A Poet's Dream And Agony.

I See A Lot Of Fog And A Few Lights. I Like It When Life's Hidden. It Gives You A Chance To Imagine Nice Things, Nicer Than They Are.

Out Of The Seventy Movies I've Written Some Ten Of Them Were Not Entirely Waste Product.

I Haunted Streets, Whorehouses, Police Stations, Courtrooms, Theater Stages, Jails, Saloons, Slums, Madhouses, Fires, Murders, Riots, Banquet Halls And Bookshops. I Ran Everywhere In The City Like A Fly Buzzing In The Works Of A Clock, Tasted More Than Any Fit Belly Could Hold, Learned Not To Sleep, And Buried Myself In A Tick-tock Of Whirling Hours That Still Echo In Me.

When You Overpay Small People You Frighten Them. They Know That Their Merits Or Activities Entitle Them To No Such Sums As They Are Receiving. As A Result Their Boss Soars Out Of Economic Into Magic Significance.