“Ah, no; the years, the years;
Down their carved names the raindrop plows.”

“I did not lose myself all at once. I rubbed out my face over the years washing away my pain, the same way carvings on stone are worn down by water.”

“Ah, but my Computations, People say,
Reduced the Year to better reckoning?”

“Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone,
But grief returns with the revolving year.”

“deep down I believe my year was a special year: it produced me.”

“Sculpture is a celebration of lime and time. The stone I carve is millions of years of age. It is old and stubborn and reluctant to change but change it must for that is the challenge to the sculptor.”

“Ah Sin was his name.”

“They named him — ah! yet
Do I start at that name;”

“Don't let me miss the open door. Show me where the open door is and even if it's cracked up a little bit, maybe I'll just plow right on through that and maybe prematurely plow through it, but don't let me miss an open door. And if there is an open door in '12 or four years later, and if it is something that is going to be good for my family, for my state, for my nation, an opportunity for me, then I'll plow through that door.”

“Ah, now, don't cry over lost years and forgetfulness. The tales tell what they can. The rest is for us to learn..”