We commit two wrongs when we fail to right a wrong.

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

The slowness of time, for a man who knows nothing will happen, is brutal.

A work settles nothing, just as the labor of a whole generation settles nothing. Sons, and the morrow, always start afresh.

Perfect behavior is born of complete indifference. Perhaps this is why we always love madly someone who treats us with indifference.

One stops being a child when one realizes that telling one's trouble does not make it any better.

But here's the worst part: the trick to life lies in hiding from those we hold most dear how much they mean to is; if not, we'd lose them.