Memory is, of course, a trickster.

Sometimes you have to travel back in time, skirting the obstacles, in order to love someone.

If you've got a plot the size of a car or a tiny yard in Italy, you're going to be growing tomatoes and basil and celery and carrots, and everybody is still connected to the land.

Life offers you a thousand chances... all you have to do is take one.

Living in a small Italian hilltown, and having lived in a small town in south Georgia, I understand that you can recognize a family gene pool by the lift of an eyebrow, or the length of a neck, or a way of walking.

The world cracks open for those willing to take a risk.

Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.