I would like to be proud of having written some poems that will be remembered, but I will never know whether I will have any reason to be proud of that.
“My center is giving way, my right is in retreat; situation excellent. I shall attack.”
“Since September 11, security has been increased everywhere, and we have new IDs to get on to the Fox lot. I drove to the security gate, but realized I'd left my ID in my other car. I just broke into that voice - 'Hey, man, I'm Bart Simpson. Who else sounds like this?' The guard waved me through.”