It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to.  You know what I mean.  I tell my piano the things I used to tell you.

The future starts today, not tomorrow.

Cultivo una rosa blanca
En julio como en enero,
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca.

Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazón con que vivo,
Cardo ni ortiga cultivo,
Cultivo una rosa blanca.

Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.

Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.

The world is very different now.  For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all form of human poverty and to abolish all form of human life.