When I Was Twelve, I Started Reading

A Chinese Poet Many Centuries Ago Noticed That To Re-create Something In Words Is Like Being Alive Twice.

Travel Releases Spontaneity. You Become A Godlike Creature Full Or Choice, Free To Visit The Stately Pleasure Domes, Make Love In The Morning, Sketch A Bell Tower, Read A History Of Byzantium, Stare For One Hour At The Face Of Leonardo Da Vinci's 'madonna Dei Fusi.' You Open, As In Childhood, And--for A Time--receive This World. There's Visceral Aspect, Too--the Huntress Who Is Free. Free To Go, Free To Return Home Bringing Memories To Lay On The Hearth.

What Has Impressed Me The Most About The Italians Whose Tables We've Sat At Is That They Are Traditional Cooks But Also Outrageously Innovative. These People Are Wild Improvisers.

Five Tender Apricots In A Blue Bowl, A Brief And Exact Promise Of Things To Come.

It's Kind Of Amazing That People Will Travel Because Of A Book. I Admire That.