It is from the blues that all that may be called American music derives its most distinctive character.
“The media's gotten lazy. They don't check anything out. You report what he reports.”
“O, once in each man's life, at least, Good luck knocks at his door; And wit to seize the flitting guest Need never hunger more. But while the loitering idler waits Good luck beside his fire, The bold heart storms at fortune's gates, And conquers its desire.”