Every Time Women Make Tremendous Strides, The

It Is For This, Partly, That I Write. How Can I Know What I Think Unless I See What I Write.

Perhaps It Is Because Venice Is Both Liquid And Solid, Both Air And Stone, That It Somehow Combines All The Elements Crucial To Make Our Imaginations Ignite And Turn Fantasies Into Realities.

I Convinced Myself That Sadness And Compromise Were The Ways Of The World.

Exceptional People Are Often Called Crazy By The Ordinary World.

Isn't That The Problem? That Women Have Been Swindled For Centuries Into Substituting Adornment For Love, Fashion (as It Were) For Passion?