“Travolti dal torrente dell'incertezza, i nostri sogni hanno teso le bracciaPer afferrare la terra.In mattoni e pietra si irrigidisconoi loro sogni e così sono state costruitele città dell'uomo.”

“Incenerire i sogni. Bruciare i sogni è il segreto per abbattere definitivamente i propri nemici, perché non trovino più la forza di rialzarsi e ricominciare. Non sognino le cose belle delle loro città, delle vite altrui, non sognino i racconti di altri, così pieni di libertà e di amore. Non sognino più nulla. Se non permetti alle persone di sognare, le rendi schiave.”

“Cuando mi voz calle con la muerte, mi corazón te seguirá hablando".”

“It is not easy to get rid of weeds; but it is easy, by a process of neglect, to ruin your food crops and let them revert to their primitive state of wildness. [...] In political civilization, the state is an abstraction and the relationship of men utilitarian. Because it has no roots in sentiments, it is so dangerously easy to handle. Half a century has been enough for you to master this machine; and there are men among you, whose fondness for it exceeds their love for the living ideals which were born with the birth of your nation and nursed in your centuries. It is like a child who in the excitement of his play imagines he likes his playthings better than his mother.”

“Today I feel that I shall win through. I have come to the gateway of the simple; I am now content to see things as they are. I have gained freedom myself; I shall allow freedom to others. In my work will be my salvation.”

“I AM RESTLESS AM restless. I am athirst for far-away things.My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore. I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse. I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky!O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone!”

“I have on my table a violin string. It is free to move in any direction I like. If I twist one end, it responds; it is free.But it is not free to sing. So I take it and fix it into my violin. I bind it and when it is bound, it is free for the first time to sing.”