And so, when I was a young writer I always worked hard on imagery, and I knew that the roots of imagery were the senses – and that if my readers could feel, taste and see what I was talking about, I would be able to tell them a story.
The girl who built her life so carefully so she’d never have to ask anybody for anything. I have had it with me. Whoever I was!
The air was so cold, they could barely catch their breath. The sky was saturated as blue as India ink, without a star in sight. Enza thought no place on earth could be colder than the Italian Alps, but now she knew she just had never been to Minnesota.
What a boon to live on the water! Such delicious shades and hues! This is a template worthy of the greatest painters. The textures of sand and stone could inspire incomparable sculptures, and the sounds – the steady lapping of the waves, the sweet chirping of the birds, make this a sanctuary.
Italy, despite its earthiness and charm, can never be New Jersey. Here we value evolution and change; Italy, while it warms the heart, is a monument to the past. In America we change our rooms as often as our fashions. In Italy you’re likely to find throw pillows older than the Shroud of Turin. It’s just a different way to live.
You might need to walk into happiness, like it’s a joint, and once you’re inside, you own it.
Children need to see delight in the eyes of adults, if only to give them a sense that happiness is within reach, even when it isn’t. Adults should be full of possibility, so the children might develop a sense of adventure. Children should live with the confidence that they are loved. Love frees them to embrace adventure, to seek truth, and to take care of one another.
There is a beehive under every pot of honey.
The worst punishment you can give a man is to isolate him. I’ve never seen one who can handle it.
How fragile love is. How delicate and small in its first buds, when it’s just an idea, a wish filled with hope. It is so easy to turn away from it entirely and choose to live alone in your own private fear. I had one moment of courage, and it changed my life. I didn’t turn to love out of loneliness. Or out of habit. I let love change me.
It seems that the people with passion never get the thing they’re after.
The young have everything but wisdom.
I take care of your children like the priceless jewels that they are and I don’t expect a thank-you for my efforts. You never have to worry about our kids because you know no harm will come to them in my care. Do you have any idea what a burden I have taken off your shoulders? The ability to relieve another human being of worry and anxiety is the single greatest act of love one can do for another and I do it for you.
Dear family, you are the author of your destiny. In your hands is the ending of your story and the start of a new one each time a baby is born. God knows what He’s doing.
There are many gifts a friend brings to a woman’s life. History. Empathy. Honesty. Lucky was the woman who kept a childhood friend because that friend remembered what you looked like, who you were, and your people. Lucky was the woman who had a friend from the age of ten, when girls were brave, gutsy, and full of questions and had the time and pep to seek the answers. That friend knew who you really were. That friend had seen your soul.
Let whoever longs to attain eternal life in heaven heed these warnings: When considering the past, contemplate these things: The evil done The good left undone.
If you’re lucky, and you’re like me, you’ll be old much longer than you are young, and you will enjoy the wisdom that comes from experience. But you have to plan for that. That’s why it’s important to find something you love to do.
He encouraged us to reflect on the past. Make peace with it. You cannot control the evil done to you. You cannot turn back and right the good left undone.
May God bless you and give you what you need because what you want will get you in trouble.” Figliolo blessed himself. “The Cabrellis have always been fighters. You’ll be all right.
But the first thing that leaves in success is the memory of what it felt like to be poor. We shed that insecurity like an old pair of shoes the moment there’s money in the bank. We slip into fine leather and forget how badly our feet used to hurt.
There are many gifts a friend brings to a woman’s life. History. Empathy. Honesty. Lucky was the woman who kept a childhood friend because that friend remembered what you looked like, who you were, and your people.