And off in the far distance, the gold on the wings of the angel atop the bell tower of San Marco flashed in the sun, bathing the entire city in its glistening benediction.

I do not take any pleasure whatsoever in being a famous person.

favors are always for ourselves. Especially when we ask for things for other people.

I never know what's going to happen in a novel. I don't have a plan or an outline.

The ending is one of my blackest, utterly without hope of any sort.

Oh, so seldom does fate cast our enemy into our hands, to do with as we will

Venetians feel affection and loyalty to their city, rather than to the Italian state.