If all you boast of your great art be true; Sure, willing poverty lives most in you.

Pray thee, take care, that tak'st my book in hand, To read it well: that is, to understand.

There's reason good, that you good laws should make: Men's manners ne'er were viler, for your sake.

Truth is the trial of itself And needs no other touch, And purer than the purest gold, Refine it ne'er so much.

'I've changed music four or five times. What have you done of any importance other than be white?'

I attacked those Western playwrights who use their influence and affluence to preach to the world the nihilistic doctrine that life is pointless and irrational…

We didn't exactly starve, but we were pretty poor when I was growing up. I remember thinking, Oh gosh, if I could just make thirty dollars a month to help with…