“He is ill clothed, who is bare of virtue.”

“She who reconciles the ill-matched threadsOf her life, and weaves them gratefullyInto a single cloth – It’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hallAnd clears it for a different celebration.”

“For as long as I could remember, he had never worn a single piece of clothing that could be considered casual. Khaki shorts and golf shirts, to Umberto, were the garments of men who have no virtues left, not even shame.”

“He was a man who understood the virtue of small things.”

“He will live ill who does not know how to die well”

“He who knows the masculine but keeps to the feminine,Becomes the ravine of the world.Being the ravine of the world,He dwells in constant virtue,He returns to the state of the babe.He who knows the white but keeps to the black,Becomes the model of the world.Being the model of the world,He rests in constant virtue,He returns to the infinite.He who knows glory but keeps to disgrace,Becomes the valley of the world.Being the valley of the world,He finds contentment in constant virtue,He returns to the Uncarved Block.”