The child lives in the book; but just as much the book lives in the child.

Nothing arrives on paper as it started, and so much arrives that never started at all. To write is always to rave a little-even if one did once know what one meant

There is no end to the violations committed by children on children, quietly talking alone.

What I have found is, anything one keeps hidden should now and then be hidden somewhere else.

I can't see or feel the conflict between love and religion. To me, they're the same thing.

To the sun Rome owes its underlying glow, and its air called golden - to me, more the yellow of white wine; like wine it raises agreeability to poetry.

Sacrificers ... are not the ones to pity. The ones to pity are those that they sacrifice. Oh, the sacrificers, they get it both ways. A person knows themselves that they're able to do without.