Whenever I Go Anywhere But Italy For

I Have Accepted Fear As A Part Of Life - Specifically The Fear Of Change... I Have Gone Ahead Despite The Pounding In The Heart That Says: Turn Back.

What Was Time But A Convention, A Habit Of Mind, A Custom Of Dress?

The Older We Get, The More Jewish We Become In My Family.

I Don't Cook. My Mother Didn't Cook. My Daughter Doesn't Cook.

I Am Thinking Of The Onion Again. . . . Not Self-righteous Like The Proletarian Potato, Nor A Siren Like The Apple. No Show-off Like The Banana. But A Modest, Self-effacing Vegetable, Questioning, Introspective, Peeling Itself Away, Or Merely Radiating Halos Like Ripples.