But in order to speak about all and to all, one has to speak of what all know and of the reality common to us all. The seas, rains, necessity, desire, the struggle against death--these are things that unite us all. We resemble one another in what we see together, in what we suffer together. Dreams change from individual, but the reality of the world is common to us all. Striving towards realism is therefore legitimate, for it is basically related to the artistic adventure.

Whoever gives nothing, has nothing. The greatest misfortune is not to be unloved, but not to love.

That must be wonderful; I have no idea of what it means.

There is not a single true work of art that has not in the end added to the inner freedom insight and life of each person who has known and loved it.

I am too much in love with my lies and hypocrisies not to confess them fervently.

Have you noticed that only death arouses our emotions? How we love thee friends who have just passed away, right? How we admire those master who no longer speak, their mouths full of dirt. We them we are not obligated.

Those who lack the courage will always find a philosophy to justify it.