My aunt once said that the world would never find peace until men fell at their women's feet and asked for forgiveness.

Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.

The road must eventually lead to the whole world.

I took a straight picture that made me look like a thirty-year-old Italian who'd kill anybody who said something against his mother.

Believe that the world is an ethereal flower, and ye live.

Ah Japhy you taught me the final lesson of them all, you can't fall off a mountain.

All our best men are laughed at in this nightmare land.