Gunter grass

I don't want you to sketch this cripple, this freak of nature, I want you to slaughter him, crucify him, to nail him to your paper with charcoal!

My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mother would come out and say, "You're tearing up the grass"; "We're not raising grass," Dad would reply. "We're raising boys".

My dad was a pretty poor guy, he didn't have a whole lot of money. He always wanted something for my brother and myself, some kind of business. He'd asked the owners of this course to call him if it ever came up for sale, and one day, they called. I had a scholarship offer to Ohio State and my dad said, 'Son, what do you want to do, cut grass or go to school?' I said, what do you want me to do, Dad? He said, 'Well, I can't afford any help.' I said, 'No problem, Dad, I'll help you cut grass.' Looking back, I think I made the right decision.

Laughed in the sun, and kissed the lovely grass.

I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.