Venice is ever the fragile labyrinth at the edge of the sea and it reminds us how brief and perilous the journeys of our lives are; perhaps that is why we love it so. City of plagues and brief liaisons, city of lingering deaths and incendiary loves, city of chimeras, nightmares, pigeons, bells. You are the only city in the world whose dialect has a word for the shimmer of canal water reflected on the ceiling of a room.

We were not human beings going through spiritual experiences; we were spiritual beings going through human experiences, in order to grow.

It was easy enough to kill yourself in a fit of despair. It was easy enough to play the martyr. It was harder to do nothing. To endure your life. To wait.

I think a lot of people, when they read about a woman who acknowledges her sexuality and her feelings, get really scared. They say they want to be fearless, but in reality they're terrified. If they acknowledge their deepest feelings, they might have to change their lives.

It is the city of mirrors, the city of mirages, at once solid and liquid, at once air and stone.

Women are the only exploited group in history to have been idealized into powerlessness.

I write lustily and humorously. It isn't calculated; it's the way I think. I've invented a writing style that expresses who I am.