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It Is Necessary ... For A Man To Go Away By Himself ... To Sit On A Rock ... And Ask, 'who Am I, Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.

Give Me Hunger, Pain And Want, Shut Me Out With Shame And Failure From Your Doors Of Gold And Fame, Give Me Your Shabbiest, Weariest Hunger! But Leave Me A Little Love.

Here Is The Difference Between Dante, Milton, And Me. They Wrote About Hell And Never Saw The Place. I Wrote About Chicago After Looking The Town Over For Years And Years.

A Man May Be Born, But In Order To Be Born He Must First Die, And In Order To Die He Must First Awake.