"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music."
If you’re horrible to me, I’m going to write a song about it, and it won’t be a good one for you.
The more I see of the moneyed classes, the more I understand the guillotine.
I said, 'I will build you this incredible, gorgeous, gleaming hotel. I will put people to work in the construction trades and save hotel jobs and the Grand Central area will come around.' So the city made the deal.
The only limits that exist are the ones you place on yourself.