I have long had this premonition of a bright day and a deserted house

You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms.

I should be proud to have my memory graced, but only if the monument be placed... here, where I endured three hundred hours in line before the implacable iron bars.

As the future ripens in the past, so the past rots in the future -- a terrible festival of dead leaves.

Italy is a dream that keeps returning for the rest of your life.

No foreign sky protected me, no stranger's wing shielded my face. I stand as witness to the common lot survivor of that time, that place.

Wild honey smells of freedom The dust - of sunlight The mouth of a young girl, like a violet But gold - smells of nothing.