There is a sacred, secret line in loving which attraction and even passion cannot cross.

My shadow serves as the friend I crave

You will hear thunder and remember me, and think: she wanted storms.

Italy is a dream that keeps returning for the rest of your life.

All has been looted, betrayed, sold; black death's wing flashed ahead.

It is unbearably painful for the soul to love silently.

Sunset in the ethereal waves: I cannot tell if the day is ending, or the world, or if the secret of secrets is inside me again.

You will hear thunder and remember me, And think: she wanted storms. The rim Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson, And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.

Forgive me, that I manage badly, Manage badly but live gloriously, That I leave traces of myself in my songs, That I appeared to you in waking dreams.

Call me a sinner, Mock me maliciously: I was your insomnia, I was your grief.

Real tenderness can't be confused, It's quiet and can't be heard.

I wanted a heaven. And I grew up striving for that world-- an eternal world- that would wash away my temporary misery.

I cannot walk into our garden without constantly being reminded of the friends who have shared their plants.

We have two hundred languages in Europe. Two hundred languages! Count them! I know you won't!

So I walked back to my room and collapsed on the bottom bunk, thinking that if people were rain, I was drizzle and she was a hurricane.

The book that I shall make people read is the book of the heart, which holds the key to the mystery of life

May your crust be crisp and your bread always rise!

I will be sof brief, I have already finished.

To vanish in the chinks that Time has made.

When death gives us a long lease of life, it takes as hostages all those whom we have loved.

Everyone gets the experience. Some get the lesson.