Love that stammers, that stutters, is apt to be the love that loves best.

Writing tends to cheer me; it always soothes my spirit and blesses me with the gift of an innocent, tender, childlike day. It is the sensation of having spent a few hours in my homeland, with my customs, free whims, my total freedom.

Let the radiance of my enthusiasms envelop the poor courtyard and the bare classroom. Let my heart be a stronger column and my goodwill purer gold than the columns and gold of rich schools.

All night I have suffered; all night my flesh has trembled to bring forth its gift. The sweat of death is on my forehead; but it is not death, it is life!

You shall create beauty not to excite the senses but to give sustenance to the soul.

My grief and my smile begin in your face, my son.

I have all that I lost and I go carrying my childhood like a favorite flower that perfumes my hand.