Today violence is the rhetoric of the period.

If the human intellect functions, it is actually in order to solve the problems which the man's inner destiny sets it.

The poet begins where the man ends. The man's lot is to live his human life, the poet's to invent what is nonexistent.

Thought is not a gift to man but a laborious, precarious and volatile acquisition.

Liberalism -- it is well to recall this today -- is the supreme form of generosity; it is the right which the majority concedes to minorities and hence it is the noblest cry that has ever resounded in this planet. It announces the determination to share existence with the enemy; more than that, with an enemy which is weak.

Poetry has become the higher algebra of metaphors.

Man is a fugitive from nature.