In many ways, a degree in the history of ideas is the ideal training for an aspiring writer. Anne Fortier More Quotes by Anne Fortier More Quotes From Anne Fortier Everything we say is a story. But nothing we say is just a story. Anne Fortier stories She had died peacefully, in her sleep, after an evening of listening to all of her favorite Fred Astaire songs, one crackling record after another. Once the last chord of the last piece had died out, she had stood up and opened the French doors to the garden outside, perhaps waiting to breathe in the honeysuckle one more time. Anne Fortier garden sleep song Romeo was cute …” “Cute?” Alessandro rolled his eyes. “What kind of man is cute?” “… and an excellent dancer …” “Romeo had feet of lead! He said so himself!” “… but most importantly,” I concluded, “he had nice hands! Anne Fortier nice eye cute I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said, “at nine o’clock. Don’t open your door to anyone else.” “Not even my balcony door?” “Especially not your balcony door. Anne Fortier tomorrow nine doors It's what we call a dolce pazzia... a sweet madness. Once you feel it, you will never want to leave it. Anne Fortier madness want sweet Don't underestimate the power of events that happened a long time ago. That is the tragic flaw of modern man. Anne Fortier events men long I did not know my soul until I saw it's reflection in your eyes. Anne Fortier eye reflection love You owe me nothing, but I want everything. Anne Fortier want Think about it. He drinks poison. What kind of man drinks poison? She is the one who stabs herself with his dagger. The manly way. Anne Fortier poison men thinking But he is an Italian," was Umberto's sensible reply. "He doesn't care if you break some law a little bit, as long as you wear beautiful shoes. Are you wearing beautiful shoes? Are you wearing the shoes I gave you?...principessa?" I looked down at my flip-flops. "I guess I'm toast. Anne Fortier italian law beautiful ...it is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see. Anne Fortier percent fifty thinking And whether or not we had now paid our dues, he was my blessing, and I was his. Anne Fortier my-blessing dues blessing Look,' I said, struggling to keep up, 'I just wanna make one thing absolutely clear. I don't believe in guns. I just want peace. Okay?' Alessandro stopped in the middle of the corridor, took out the gun, and wrapped my hand around it before I realized what he was doing. 'Can you feel that? That's a gun. It exists. And there are a lot of people out there who do believe in it. So, excused me for taking care of them so you can have your peace. Anne Fortier gun struggle believe She laughed out loud, a warm, knowing laughter that made me once again wonder about the secret ingredient in these women’s lives. Whatever it was, I was clearly missing it. It was so much more than just self-confidence; it seemed to be the ability to love oneself, enthusiastically and unsparingly, body and soul, naturally followed by the assumption that every man on the planet is dying to get in on the act. Anne Fortier self-confidence laughter men There is lust and then there is love. They are related, but still very different things. To indulge in one requires little but honeyed speech and a change of clothes; to obtain the other, by contrast, a man must give up his rib. In return, his woman will undo the sin of Eve, and bring him back into Paradise. Anne Fortier indulge-in giving-up men After the dress rehearsal that afternoon, someone had misplaced the vial of poison, and for lack of better, Romeo would have to commit suicide by eating Tic Tacs. Anne Fortier afternoon poison suicide By the time we left college, I had become my own image: a dandelion in the flower bed of society. Kinda cute, but still a weed. Anne Fortier weed flower cute Perhaps. But the firstborn of hope is tragedy. Anne Fortier tragedy You were right and I was wrong. When life hurts more than death, it is not worth living. Anne Fortier life-hurts worth-living hurt as a bird swoops down on it's prey, and assumes this land bound wretch into heaven, so did romeo steal her lips before they fled him again. suspended somewhere between cherubs and devils, his quarry ceased to buck, and he spread his wings wide and let the rising wind carry them off across the sky, until even the predator himself had lost every hope of returning home. within that one embrace, [he] became aware of a feeling of certainty he had not thought possible for anyone - even the virtuous. with her in his arms, all other women, past, present, and future, simply ceased to exist. Anne Fortier home wind past
