Menotti Lerro Quotes

Nothing belongs to us / but dreams / confused images of the night, / voices that we do not distinguish anymore. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 52)

When men feel happy, they think of men who love; when they feel sad they think and pray to God.

Philosophy will fail forever its primary aim because it searches for something that does not exist.

Poetry cannot be imprisoned in one definition and therefore I myself would have a lot of them, yet no definite and certain definition. I will define, consequently, this literary genre in a different way in comparison with my previous definitions. To being with, I would say that poetry itself is a tool that defines us and the universe, because it is quintessence. (Defining Poetry. From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011, p. 1)

Happiness is the illusion of being happy, unhappiness is the fear of being it. A little bit of fear helps you to live in the light, too much strangles you in the dark.

If God entrusted his word to priests, it’s easy to explain why the world refuses to listen to it.

Non c’è giorno senza tenebre e notte senza luce.

Men were born to die! Life has only one purpose: to understand the sense of your own misery.

Remember that the sun doesn’t belong more to a man than to you. Never let yourself to be put in the shadow.

When a devil, but also a saint, laughs about your poetry, you laugh about his ignorance!

Tonight I have no desire to sleep. / I want to remain here until morning / writing poetry. / The heart drowns less slowly / when the pen sheds tears / and the paper dries pain. (From: The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 55)

We were born boys or girls, but we don’t know what we will become, to which gender we will belong to at death.

The carpentry smelt of trees and incense. / My father spread white Vinavil in grooves, / inserted steel nails with two short, intense blows. / I imitated him, little hammer, between my hands, his tools in miniature… / I dreamt about the Trojan horse. / Then in the evening I hid myself / among sawdust: There is no safer place / in the world he said, with open arms. / Nowadays I take no cover / but in his eyes / (in the calm before the storm); / piece by piece I tidy up / our carpentry. (From The Poetry of Menotti Lerro, p. 42)

We do not have anything, but the body. The soul is an invention, dust of the cross.

Men are like wine. You taste them, they seem good, they arouse your senses... But after? You suddenly find yourself with your head spinning. And if you are not careful, if you don’t chose only those high quality ones, you will end up feeling also nauseated.