The Islands Of Italy Combine All The

There Is Something Worse Than Dying, And That Is Humiliation - At Least So It Seemed To Me.

To Have A Crisis, And Act Upon It, Is One Thing. To Dwell In Perpetual Crisis Is Another.

Grief Does Not End And Love Does Not Die And Nothing Fills Its Graven Place. With Grace, Pain Is Transmuted Into The Gold Of Wisdom And Compassion And The Lesser Coin Of Muted Sadness And Resignation; But Something Leaden Of It Remains, To Become The Kernel Arond Which More Pain Accretes (a Black Pearl): One Pain Becomes Every Other Pain ... Unless One Strips Away, One By One, The Layers Of Pain To Get To The Heart Of The Pain - And This Causes More Pain, Pain So Intense As To Feel Like Evisceration.

Nothing Is More Democratic, Less Judgmental, Than Water. Water Doesn't Care Whether Flesh Is Withered Or Fresh; It Caresses Aged Flesh And Firm Flesh With Equal Love.

The Best Work Is A Fusion Of Love And Praise.