A Lovely Evening Of New Idioms And

In A World Of Disorder And Disaster And Fraud, Sometimes Only Beauty Can Be Trusted. Only Artistic Excellence Is Incorruptible. Pleasure Cannot Be Bargained Down. And Sometimes The Meal Is The Only Currency That Is Real.

And We Have A Little Herb Garden, Which Survived The Winter Thanks To Global Warming. It Makes Me Feel Like A Cool, Old Italian Housewife, That I Kept My Rosemary Alive Outside All Winter.

She Followed The Pleasure Where It Led. She Had No Weight, No Name, No Thoughts, No History. Then Came A Burst Of Phosphorescence, As Though A Firework Had Discharged Behind Her Eyes, And It Was Over. She Felt Quiet And Warm. For The First Conscious Moment Of Her Life, Her Mind Was Free From Wonder, Free From Worry, Free From Work Or Puzzlement. Then, From The Middle Of That Marvelous Furred Stillness, A Thought Took Shape, Took Hold, Took Over. I Shall Have To Do This Again.

He Endeared Himself To Me Forever The First Night We Met, When I Was Getting Frustrated With My Inability To Find The Words I Wanted In Italian, And He Put His Hand On My Arm And Said, "liz, You Must Be Very Polite With Yourself When You Are Learning Something New.

Marriage Becomes Hard Work Once You Have Poured The Entirety Of Your Life’s Expectations For Happiness Into The Hands Of One Mere Person. Keeping That Going Is Hard Work.