“I, too, head for the Baths of Caracalla, thinking—with my old, magnificent privilege of thinking… (And let there still be a god in me that thinks, lost, weak, and childish, yet whose voice is so human it is almost a song.) Oh, to leave this prison of poverty! To be free of the yearning that makes these ancient nights so splendid! He who knows yearning, and he who does not, have something in common: man’s desires are humble.” ThoughtYearningCaracalla Book:Selected Poetry of Pier Paolo Pasolini, The: A Bilingual Edition Source: Selected Poetry of Pier Paolo Pasolini, The: A Bilingual Edition