Quotes by Fabio Volo

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I love women, I always have done. How can you not love them? Because women are beautiful. Beautiful are their contours, their hands, their skin, the contorted threads of their minds. Beautiful the coloured scents of their wishes. Like my fears, their little turmoils. I love the beauty of their moves. I love how they dry their tears with their hand and the sudden smile after they've been crying like children. Unexpected gashes of light. I love women. Without them I would've already left. Without them I would've never come back.

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I wonder if it's more sinful to follow what I feel or the hipocrisy of living what I'm not.

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Maybe now I just want to undress from this role to see what lies underneath. Maybe I've finally found the strength and the courage to risk myself. And maybe discover, without having ever known it, that I'm simply more.

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One day, in a natural way, everthing changed. And nothing was the same as before. A world of certainty had been swept away, overwhelmed.

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What is happening to me? Who am I becoming? I feel double, as if a part of me had started looking at me, observing my life.

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You need a lot of energy to invent a present when the future seems more of a menace than a hope.

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We live a routine that can't produce a different result. If we're not happy today, we won't be so tomorrow. I have the feeling of consuming my life waiting for something that'll never happen.

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A great need of travelling, laughing and having fun has just exploded in me. The need of living a new world, different from mine. I need to have the capacity of hoping. I need to love. I don't want to find anymore excuses to not love.

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There are moments when life gives you moments of unexpected beauty. You stop doing something and you realize that around you everything is perfect, the gift of a less distracted God than usual. Everything seems sincere. The birth of a new life, the dawn of change, something deep or simply the confirmation of a love kept hidden, of a secret feeling, kept silently within us modestly or even the end of something, the end of a moment, of a difficult period always harder to sustain... when our short breaths end, giving way to a long and deep one that fills and empties the chest... in those moments I'm wanting for nothing...

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Why have I let myself be transported this way? Because I hadn't any strength left. I was tired or lying to myself. Tired of constantly following the right thing to do. For the fist time in life I accepted to jump in the dark, of doing something dangerous.