Suddenly many movements are going on within me, many things are happening, there is an almost unbearable sense of sprouting, of bursting encasements, of moving kernels, expanding flesh.

An abyss seems to have opened between the intellectual cosmopolites of culture and the people, hungry for word and meaning.

I am luminous with age.

It was the bumble bee and the butterfly who survived, not the dinosaur.

To be bound by hungers is a beautiful thing but to be bound by physical hungers only is too low a state for man.

The body repeats the landscape. They are the source of each other and create each other.

These are the stories that never, never die, that are carried like seed into a new country, are told to you and me and make in us new and lasting strengths.