I think there's more real in the unreal than there is in the real.

We were taught to be dependable, responsible, the top of our classes at school, the most organized and efficient babysitters in town, the very miniature models of our hardworking farmer/nurse mother, a pair of junior Swiss Army knives, born to multitask.

When the past has passed from you at last, let go. Then climb down and begin the rest of your life. With great joy.

The problem, simply put, is that we cannot choose everything simultaneously. So we live in danger of becoming paralyzed by indecision, terrified that every choice might be the wrong choice.

It is merely this world that is chaotic, bringing changes to us all that nobody could have anticipated.

I am stronger than depression and I am braver than loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me.

To my taste, the men in Rome are ridiculously, hurtfully, stupidly beautiful. More beautiful even than Roman women, to be honest. Italian men are beautiful in the same way as French women, which is to say-- no detail spared in the quest for perfection. They’re like show poodles. Sometimes they look so good I want to applaud.