Utter originality is, of course, out of the question.

Humanity is the rich effluvium, it is the waste and the manure and the soil, and from it grows the tree of the arts.

I have tried to write Paradise Do not move Let the wind speak that is paradise. Let the Gods forgive what I have made Let those I love try to forgive what I have made.

I found after seventy years that I was not a lunatic but a moron.... I should have been able to do better.

USURY is the cancer of the world, which only the surgeon’s knife of Fascism can cut out of the life of the nations.

Poetry must be as well written as prose.

A people that grows accustomed to sloppy writing is a people in the process of losing grip on its empire and on itself.