Primitive times are lyrical, ancient times epical, modern times dramatic. The ode sings of eternity, the epic imparts solemnity tohistory, the drama depicts life. The characteristic of the first poetry is ingeniousness, of the second, simplicity, of the third, truth.

Love resembles a tree: it bends under its own weight, deeply rooted in our being and sometimes turns green in the ruins of a heart.

I am a soul. I know well that what I shall render up to the grave is not myself. That which is myself will go elsewhere. Earth, thou art not my abyss!

Every man is a book in which God himself writes.

We are not loved by our friends for what we are; rather, we are loved in spite of what we are.

Houses are like the human beings that inhabit them.

If you are stone, be magnetic; if a plant, be sensitive; but if you are human be love.