– I never did learn how to live in the moment, but I did learn that moments could be wasted and the world would continue to spin on its axis. –
– “I was going to buy you flowers because of the argument we had yesterday.” I looked at his empty hands. He shrugged. “There were too many to choose from.” –
– My father, my darling father of a thousand poems and more, has taken to watching leaves fall from their trees. Rather than knit those leaves into words, he simply allows them to fall. It’s a cruel fate: to watch without recounting the fall of the leaf; to grieve without creating anew; to age without describing it. –
– I remember that when my parents were newly married and very poor, my mother served a group of unwary poets a silky meat pâté – made from cat food. –
– My Parisian December went a long way to mending a crack in my heart caused by the words, “the biopsy was positive.” To eat as the French do is to celebrate life, even to indulge in it. –
– Luca says the fact that Alessandro and I launched into a battle during his sixteenth-birthday celebration has undoubtedly scarred him forever and he will never go on vacation with us again. In the meantime, he would like his computer back so that he can communicate with other teens whose parents are raving nuts. –
– Two tourists passed me, both holding small video recorders…I want to experience where I am and what I’m seeing, not view it only through the eye of a camera, for canned viewing later. –
– “Mama,” Anna said impatiently, “this is a novel! There has to be some crying.” –
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