Roberto Vecchioni

"I found some breath again, my breath: now I can read myself, as if in a mirror. I contemplate my face, my misery. Enough. Enough. How many times have I told myself this? How many times have I gone back?"

"Away, away, other roads, other seas, a different sky of unknown stars: so that even the stars do not know me, do not know who I am."

"You write because you don't live: it is an excuse, a defense, a surrender."

"I don't cry, I don't know how to cry, I never learned to do it. I don't know emotion, only regret and yearning: I know annoyance and boredom, absence and rejection. I have a lump in my throat, here, now, but I don't even try to shed tears, because if I had to do it once I wouldn't stop for all the days I have left."

"It was like apologizing, to you, but also to me."

"If we are armed and trained, we are able to convince men that we too have hands, feet and a heart like theirs and that even if we are delicate and tender, there are delicate men who can be strong and vulgar and violent men who they are cowards. Women have not yet understood that they should behave like this, in this way they would be able to fight to the death and to demonstrate that this is true, I will be the first to act, setting myself up as a model. (Veronica Franco)"

"It seems impossible to you men, because you cannot read inside it. But we don't have yesterday and tomorrow, we only have the moment that remains and doesn't pass, what has been doesn't count, what will be doesn't exist: every fragment, every day is a part of itself: every day of joy is like eternal and that is our secret. It seems impossible to you men, because you don't know happiness. (horse towards men)"

"In an instant, and don't ask me why, I saw all the evil, all the hypocrisy of the world winning with impunity, crushing beauty, truth and... and I was moved."

"Nothing moves, neither here nor there, nor within me. And it is in those moments that I realize it: nothing lives so intensely as time stands still; because it is not the people running, the objects falling, the voices resounding, that make life: those are inexact imitations of life."

"It wasn't just to stay indoors, shelter from the rain: there must have been in them the absolute certainty of being more than the passing day, beyond the years and beyond time."

"The wonder of memory was nothing compared to what was happening in my mind and soul."

"[...] beauty is this dress that you feel sewn on, soft, warm, indestructible, among many others that always lack something."

"I thought: it's like when you meet a person and their eyes, arm, shoulders, feet, hair are no longer there; those things are not the person, not even put all together: the person is something else."

"I am a man: there is nothing else, neither the journey nor the meetings count, the storm and the sun do not count, the days, the hours do not count; the meaning of things doesn't even matter, whether it shines or goes out. I am a man and that's it: beyond and beyond, with or without all this."

"But this is how desperation is, like a prayer without an addressee."

"Angelo Branduardi"

"Roberto Vecchioni, The bookseller of Selinunte, Einaudi, Turin, C.E.2004. ISBN 88-06-16739-1"

"Roberto Vecchioni, The Song of the Theater Song. Notes on the specificity of a language; in Gaber, Giorgio, il Signor G. Told by intellectuals, friends, artists, edited by Andrea Pedrinelli, Kowalski, Milan, C.E.2008, pp. 207-210. ISBN 978-88-7496-754-4"

"Roberto Vecchioni, Scacco a Dio, Einaudi, Turin, C.E.2009. ISBN 978-88-06-19849-7"