Remember, writing poetry is like making love: one will never know whether one's own pleasure is shared. — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
Dawn's faint breath breathes with your mouth at the ends of empty streets. Gray light your eyes, sweet drops of dawn on dark hills. Your steps and breath like the wind of dawn smother houses. The city shudders, Stones exhale— you are life, an awakening. Star lost in the light of dawn, trill of the breeze, warmth, breath— the night… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share
In the mental disturbance and effort of writing, what sustains you is the certainty that on every page there is something left unsaid. — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
Why does a man who is truly in love insist that this relationship must continue and be "lifelong"? Because life is pain and the… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
I thought of how many places there are in the world that belong in this way to someone, who has it in his blood… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
Now that I've seen what war is, what civil war is, I know that everybody, if one day it should end, ought to ask… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
It had to happen to you, to concentrate your whole life on one point, and then discover that you can do anything except live… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
There is only one pleasure-that of being alive. All the rest is misery. — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
But here's the worst part: the trick to life lies in hiding from those we hold most dear how much they mean to is;… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
“Meanwhile we arrived at our lane and the sight of the olive tree rubbed me the wrong way. I began to see that no… — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
Verrà la morte e avrà i tuoi occhi. (Death will come and it will have your eyes.) — Cesare Pavese Copy Share Image
