Oh, I Adore To Cook. It Makes

Poor Slob Without A Name. It's A Little Inconvenient, His Not Having A Name. But I Haven't The Right To Give Him One: He'll Have To Wait Until He Belongs To Somebody. We Just Sort Of Took Up By The River One Day, We Don't Belong To Each Other: He's An Independent, And So Am I. I Don't Want To Own Anything Until I Know I've Found The Place Where Me And Things Belong Together.

Actually, I Think Friendship And Love Are Exactly The Same Thing.

A Work Of Art Is One Of Mystery, The One Extreme Magic; Everything Else Is Either Arithmetic Or Biology.

Sicily Is More Beautiful Than Any Woman.

I Prefer To Underwrite. Simple, Clear As A Country Creek.