It's the perpetually unfinished quality of housework that makes it oppressive - it never ends, like bad psychoanalysis, or a dream interrupted. It is paradoxically true that it is exactly this daily re-creation of the world that lends housekeeping its nobility and romance.
One feels a quickening of the pulse when one crosses a border.
Weather creates character.
My mother was my first jealous lover.
Italians' relationship to food is loving, informal, and gay.
If there is one lesson Rome teaches, it is that matter is good; in Rome the holy and the homely rise and converge.