Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi. (Death will come and it will have your eyes.)

If you wish to travel far and fast, travel light. Take off all your envies, jealousies, unforgiveness, selfishness and fears.

The closing years of life are like the end of a masquerade party, when the masks are dropped.

For women, history does not exist. Murasaki, Sappho, and Madame Lafayette might be their own contemporaries.

Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night is done. You are light and morning.

Artists are the monks of the bourgeois state.

The richness of life lies in memories we have forgotten.