A few stars were approaching and in their brightness I glimpsed a fragment of your vanished soul – cheerful and frivolous, unforgettable.

A painter is someone who wipes the windowpane between the world and us with light, with a rag made of light, soaked in silence.

Distance brings sweetness. Absence tames what is near.

What love is it, then, that has no need of words to call us? In whose image are we made, to take such delight in a simple image, a square of light on a dark wall?

،درد را دوسـت نـدارم
،هـرگز هـم آن را دوســت نـخـواهـم داشـت
....ولی باید اذعـان کـنـم که آمـوزگارِ خـوبی اســت

What Is Love? I have met in the streets a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat worn, the water passed through his shoes and the stars through his soul