“A book, a book full of human touches, of shirts, a book without loneliness, with men and tools, a book is victory.”

You are like nobody since I love you.

In the house of poetry nothing endures that is not written with blood to be heard with blood.

But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.

I’m not me but living matter fermenting and forming its own shapes in the fruitfulness of every day.

I believed that the way passed through Man, and that it was from there that destiny had to emerge.

For me writing is like breathing. I could not live without breathing and I could not live without writing.

Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.

Someday, somewhere – anywhere, unfailingly, you’ll find yourself, and that, and only that, can be the happiest or bitterest hour of your life.

Like them you are tall and taciturn, and you are sad, all at once, like a voyage.

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

And when you appear all the rivers sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world.

What does autumn go on paying for with so much yellow money?

Everything is so alive, that I can be alive. Without moving I can see it all. In your life I see everything that lives.

There were thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and the ruins, and you were the miracle.

I love you only because it’s you the one I love; I hate you deeply, and hating you Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude.

What progress we are making. In the Middle Ages they would have burned me. Now they are content with burning my books.

Books, indeed, were his sole luxuries.

I wrote my first novel because I wanted to read it.

If you only read the books that everyone else is reading, you can only think what everyone else is thinking.

Declutter is the first chapter in the book of minimalism.

The worst thing about new books is that they keep us from reading the old ones.

My idea of a delicious time is to read a book that is wonderful. But the ruling passion of my life is being a seeker after truth and the divine.

I am not well read, but when I do read, I read well.