“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Go out on the front porch of the house, turn the Washington Post over with your big toe, and if your name’s above the fold, you know you’re not going to have a good day.

I just save my money, man. I don’t even try to enjoy it like these other rappers; they having fun and they lit, but they gon’ be broke later on. I be savin’.

My marriage is on the rocks again, yeah, my wife just broke up with her boyfriend.

I went to a fight the other night, and a hockey game broke out.

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?

What broke when he could bring himself to thrust down the knife into the warm flesh, to bring down the axe on the living head, to cleave down between the seeing eyes, to shoot the gun that would drive death into the beating heart?

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?

A boxer makes a comeback for two reasons: either he’s broke or he needs the money.

Not by way of the forced and worn formula of Romaticism, but throught the closeness of an imagination that has never broken kinship with nature. Art must accept such gifts, and revaluate the giver.