Rome is not outside me, but inside me.. Her feverish sweetness, her tragic countryside, her own beauty and harmony, all these are mine, for my thought and my work.
When I know your soul, I will paint your eyes.
Happiness is an angel with a serious face
I want to be a tuneswept fiddle string that feels the master melody, and snaps.
You are not alive unless you know you are living.
What I am seeking is not the real and not the unreal but rather the unconscious, the mystery of the instinctive in the human race.