“He read of the Obelisk in the Place de la Concorde that weeps tears of granite in its lonely sunless exile and longs to be back by the hot, lotus-covered Nile.”

“The silver trumpets rang across the Dome;The people knelt upon the ground with awe;And borne upon the necks of men I saw,Like some great God, the Holy Lord of Rome.Priest-like, he wore a robe more white than foam,And, king-like, swathed himself in royal red,Three crowns of gold rose high upon his head;In splendour and in light the Pope passed home.My heart stole back across wide wastes of yearsTo One who wandered by a lonely sea;And sought in vain for any place of rest:“Foxes have holes, and every bird its nest,I, only I, must wander wearily,And bruise my feet, and drink wine salt with tears.”

“Para la mayoría de nosotros la verdadera vida es la vida que no llevamos.”

“La rebeldía a los ojos de todo aquel que haya leído algo de historia, es la virtud original del hombre.”

“El único modo de librarnos de la tentación es ceder a ella.”

“La tragedia de la vejez no consiste en ser viejo, sino en haber sido joven.”

“La risa es la actitud primitiva hacia la vida, una forma de acercamiento que sólo sobrevive en artistas y criminales.”