If the Lord God had forgotten for a second that I am a rag doll and given me a little life, I probably wouldn't have said everything I think; I would have thought more about what I say.
I would value things not by their value, but by their significance.
I would sleep less, dream more, realizing that every minute with my eyes closed is a loss of sixty seconds of light.
I would walk when others abstain from it, I would wake up when others are asleep, I would listen when others are talking.
And how I would enjoy chocolate ice cream!
If the Lord had given me a little life, I would have dressed simply, got up with the first ray of the sun, exposing not only the body, but also the soul.
My God, if I had a little more time, I would put my hatred in ice and wait for the sun to appear. I would paint under the stars like Van Gogh, dream while reading Benedetti's poems, and the song of Serra would be my moonlight serenade. I would wash the roses with my tears to taste the pain of their thorns and the scarlet kiss of their petals.
My God, if I had a little life… I wouldn't miss a day not to tell the people I love that I love them.
I would convince every woman and every man that I love them, I would live in love with love.
I would prove to people how wrong they are to think that when they get old, they stop loving: on the contrary, they get old because they stop loving!
I would give the child wings and teach him to fly myself.
I would teach the elderly that death does not come from old age, but from oblivion.
I've learned a lot from you people, too.
I learned that everyone wants to live on top of a mountain, not realizing that true happiness awaits them on the descent.
I realized that when a newborn grabs his father's finger for the first time with a tiny fist, he grabs it forever.
I realized that a person has the right to look down on another person just to help him get back on his feet.
I've learned so much from you, but the truth is, it's not much use, because after stuffing my chest with it, I'm leaving.
