Each artist or writer who works in Venice comes to believe that the city yields its most special secret to him or her alone.

Love is serene and calm

Women are their own worst enemies. And guilt is the main weapon of self-torture . . . Show me a woman who doesn't feel guilty and I'll show you a man.

But come back in November or December, in February or March, when the fog, la nebbia, settles upon the city like a marvelous monster, and you will have little trouble believing that things can appear and disappear in this labyrinthine city, or that time here could easily slip in its sprockets and take you, willingly or unwillingly, back.

Feminism is teaching. I've gotten a lot of pleasure pushing younger writers that I've met and worked with.

Perhaps it is because Venice is both liquid and solid, both air and stone, that it somehow combines all the elements crucial to make our imaginations ignite and turn fantasies into realities.

Any system was a straightjacket if you insisted on adhering to it so totally and humorlessly.