Every generation reinvents the wheel - and in the process it often adds to rather than subtracts from a woman's burdens.

I love medieval cities; they do not clamor for attention; they possess their souls - their riches - in quiet; formal, courteous, they reveal themselves slowly, stone by stone, garden by garden; hidden treasures wait calmly to be loved and yield to introspective wandering.

I love cloisters, which are the architectural equivalent of a theological concept: perfect freedom within set boundaries.

Italians' relationship to food is loving, informal, and gay.

the islands of Italy combine all the elements - fire, water, earth, and air - and that is irresistible.

One can be tired of Rome after three weeks and feel one has exhausted it; after three months one feels that one has not even scratched the surface of Rome; and after six months one wishes never to leave it.

How do you think it would feel to be obliged to ask for a seat-belt extender on an airplane? For the unfashionably bulgy, life is a series of small humiliations.