“The stones here speak to me, and I know their mute language. Also, they seem deeply to feel what I think. So a broken column of the old Roman times, an old tower of Lombardy, a weather-beaten Gothic piece of a pillar understands me well. But I am a ruin myself, wandering among ruins.”

“In it she told me, "Thanks a lot! I'm ruined - gloriously ruined." I nodded with sudden understanding. "that's it - that describes what has happened to me." I was ruined for life as I had known it before, but gloriously ruined!”

“Today I know I was right. The adolescents of my generation, greedy for life, forgot in body and soul about their hopes for the future until reality taught them that tomorrow was not what they had dreamed, and they discovered nostalgia. My Sunday columns were there, life an archeological relic among the ruins of the past, and they realized they were not only for the old but also for the young who were not afraid of aging.”

“Hard weather, says the old man. So let it be. Wrap me in the weathers of the earth, I will be hard and hard. My face will wash rain like the stones.”

“I am going to open myself up to all that is superior in the world and beyond and I am going to spend time trying to take delight in things! Not finding ruin in them! If the ruin of you is what you look for, the ruin of you is what you are going to find!”

“People who know me well understand fully what I am saying when I suggest that I am working an appetite and that we'd best be making our move. This means it is time to hit the road before my blood sugar-what's left of it-crashes to that point where I'm going to ruin your fucking day.”