Modern man is assailed on every side and almost without interruption by noise - of the radio, of television, of headlines, of advertising and of the cinema - of which the greatest part, far from enlightening the mind, blunts and stultifies it.

I would define myself as a Marxian, and that means of course also as a humanist.

If one is not productive in other spheres, one is not productive in the love either.

Society must be organized in such a way that mans social, loving nature is not separated from his social existence, but becomes one with it.

Sleep is often the only occasion in which man cannot silence his conscience; we forget what we knew in our dream.

True love is like a pair of socks: you gotta have two and they've gotta match.

Can one have love? If we could, love would need to be a thing, a substance that one can have, own, possess. The truth is, there is no such thing as love. Love is an abstraction, perhaps a goddess or an alien being, although nobody has ever seen this goddess. In reality, there exists only the act of loving. To love is a productive activity. It implies caring for, knowing, responding, affirming, enjoying: the person, the tree, the painting, the idea. It means bringing to life, increasing his/her/its aliveness. It is a process, self-renewing and self increasing.