We thought: we're poor, we have nothing, but when we started losing one after the other so each day became remembrance day, we started composing poems about God's great generosity and our former riches.

Who will grieve for this woman? Does she not seem too insignificant for our concern? Yet in my heart I never will deny her, Who suffered death because she chose to turn.

We thought: we're poor, we have nothing, but when we started losing one after the other so each day became remembrance day, we started composing poems about God's great generosity and our former riches.

No, not under the vault of another sky, not under the shelter of other wings. I was with my people then, there where my people were doomed to be.

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

There is a sacred, secret line in loving which attraction and even passion cannot cross.

We aged a hundred years, and this happened in a single hour: the short summer had already died, the body of the ploughed plains smoked.