“I regret profoundly that I was not an American and not born in Greenwich Village. It might be dying, and there might be a lot of dirt in the air you breathe, but this is where it's happening.”
“I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne, and yet must bear,— Till death like sleep might steal on me And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.”
“I won't regret, because you can grow flowers where dirt used to be.”
“Greenwich Village... the village of low rents and high arts.”
“I was born an American; I will live an American; I shall die an American. ”
“I was born an American, I live like an American, I will die an American.”