A saxophone player on 32nd Street
Squeezed a note from his loins
and his guts and his heart,
Filched a note from the space
between the earth and the moon,
Caressed a note for a woman
with green eyes,
Smuggled a note from the tenements,
the smoke-filled bars
and the garbage-strewn streets,
a blue note
That soared up the skyscrapers’ bellies
And sauntered over a funeral procession
on Seventh Avenue,
a blue note
That glided over the college students
who lounged in the sun at Washington Square,
And drifted into the harbor,
Plunged into the ocean
and fell asleep.
There were times my pants were so thin I could sit on a dime and tell if it was heads or tails.
~Spencer Tracy. Spencer Bonaventure Tracy (1900 – 1967) was an American actor.
We were so poor my daddy unplugged the clocks when we went to bed.
~Chris Rock, (born 1965), American comedian, actor, screenwriter, drama and television producer, film producer and director
Wealth–any income that is at least one hundred dollars more a year than the income of one’s wife’s sister’s husband.
~H.L. Mencken. Henry Louis “H. L.” Mencken (1880 – 1956) was an American journalist, essayist, magazine editor, satirist, acerbic critic of American life and culture, and a scholar of American English.