The Best Work Is A Fusion Of

Grief Does Not End And Love Does Not Die And Nothing Fills Its Graven Place. With Grace, Pain Is Transmuted Into The Gold Of Wisdom And Compassion And The Lesser Coin Of Muted Sadness And Resignation; But Something Leaden Of It Remains, To Become The Kernel Arond Which More Pain Accretes (a Black Pearl): One Pain Becomes Every Other Pain ... Unless One Strips Away, One By One, The Layers Of Pain To Get To The Heart Of The Pain - And This Causes More Pain, Pain So Intense As To Feel Like Evisceration.

Porches Are America's Lost Rooms.

One Can Be Tired Of Rome After Three Weeks And Feel One Has Exhausted It; After Three Months One Feels That One Has Not Even Scratched The Surface Of Rome; And After Six Months One Wishes Never To Leave It.

Desire Creates Its Own Object.

The Islands Of Italy Combine All The Elements - Fire, Water, Earth, And Air - And That Is Irresistible.