The stones here speak to me, and I know their mute language. Also, they seem deeply to feel what I think. So a broken column of the old Roman times, an old tower of Lombardy, a weather- beaten Gothic piece of a pillar understands me well. But I am a ruin myself, wandering among ruins.

He only profits from praise who values criticism.

There is only one writer in whom I find something that reminds me of the directness of style which is found in the Bible. It is Shakespeare.

The sea appears all golden. Beneath the sun-lit sky.

The propaganda of communism possesses a language which every people can understand. Its elements are simply hunger, envy, death.

Lyrical poetry is much the same an every age, as the songs of the nightingales in every spring-time.

I have smelt all the aromas there are in the fragrant kitchen they call Earth; and what we can enjoy in this life, I surely have enjoyed just like a lord!