All night I have suffered all night my flesh has trembled to bring forth its gift. The sweat of death is on my forehead but it is not death, it is life!

Writing tends to cheer me it always soothes my spirit and blesses me with the gift of an innocent, tender, childlike day. It is the sensation of having spent a few hours in my homeland, with my customs, free whims, my total freedom.

Love that stammers, that stutters, is apt to be the love that loves best.

Let the earth look at me, and bless me, for now I am fecund and sacred, like the palms and the furrows.

We are guilty of many errors and many faults, But our worst crime is abandoning the children, Neglecting the fountain of life. Many of the things we need can wait. The child cannot. Right now is the time his bones are being formed, His blood is being made, And his senses are being developed. To him we cannot answer 'Tomorrow.' His name is 'Today.'

For me, religiosity is ... the constant remembrance of the presence of the soul.

Now my belly is as noble as my heart.

What the soul is to the body, so is the artist to his people.

There is the joy of being healthy and fair, but there is overall the beauty, the immense joy of being useful.

My grief and my smile begin in your face, my son.

Love beauty it is the shadow of God on the universe

Now I am nothing but a veil all my body is a veil beneath which a child sleeps.