I know that when the world surrenders, pallid, to repose, the murmur of a tranquil stream through the deep silence flows.

We light the oven so that everyone may bake bread in it.

Treacherous assassins, enemies of the people, and worthy of everyone's ridicule are those who, under the pretext of guiding future generations, teach them an isolated system of doctrines and whisper in their ear (instead of the sweet message of love) the barbarous gospel of hate.

Culture, which makes talent shine, is not completely ours either, nor can we place it solely at our disposal. Rather, it belongs mainly to our country, which gave it to us, and to humanity, from which we receive it as a birthright.

A genuine man goes to the roots. To be a radical is no more than that: to go to the roots.

Men of action, above all those whose actions are guided by love, live forever.

Every human being has within him an ideal man, just as every piece of marble contains in a rough state a statue as beautiful as the one that Praxiteles the Greek made of the god Apollo.