The real sin against life is to abuse and destroy beauty, even one's own even more, one's own, for that has been put in our care and we are responsible for its well-being.

The real sin against life is to abuse and destroy beauty, even one's own.

Nothing is mine, I have only nothing but it is enough, it is beautiful and it is all mine. Do I even walk about in my own skin or is it something I have borrowed to spare my modesty?

who wants to read about success? It is the early struggle which makes a good story.

I can pray better when I'm comfortable.

A story is like something you wind out of yourself. Like a spider, it is a web you weave, and you love your story like a child.

With the most infinite tenderness I have ever known in my life, he put his arms around me, gently, gently, and I embraced him around the neck, and we touched.