Leaving behind books is even more beautiful — there are far too many children.

Our true birthplace is that in which we cast for the first time an intelligent eye on ourselves. My first homelands were my books.

Passion such as hers is all consent, asking little in return. I had merely to enter a room where she was to see her face take on that peaceful expression of one who is resting in bed. If I touched her, I had the impression that all the blood in her veins was turning to honey.

But happiness is brittle, and if men and circumstances don't destroy it, it is threatened by ghosts.

For me, a poet is someone who is 'in contact.' Someone through whom a current is passing.

A being afire with life cannot foresee death; in fact, by each of his deeds he denies that death exists.

the press is too often a distorting mirror, which deforms the people and events it represents, making them seem bigger or smaller than they really are.