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It's what we call a dolce pazzia... a sweet madness. Once you feel it, you will never want to leave it.

Anne Fortier

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Anne Fortier
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: November 10
Novelist
Writer
DK
Leave
Call
Feel
Feels
Never
Dolce
Madness
Sweet

More quotes by Anne Fortier

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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
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Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow.
Anne Fortier
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Verona is a very beautiful city, but Siena just never ceases to fascinate me.
Anne Fortier
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.... death turns all men into great lovers. Would that they were equally ardent while the lady was still alive!
Anne Fortier
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Everything we say is a story. But nothing we say is just a story.
Anne Fortier
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Peppo! I yelled, pulling at my cousin's suspenders. I really don't want to be arrested, okay? Don't worry! Peppo turned a corner and accelerated as he spoke. I go too fast for police!
Anne Fortier
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Perhaps. But the firstborn of hope is tragedy.
Anne Fortier
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Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow. Well, perhaps you are right. Perhaps the wise spurn one to remain safe from the other, but I should rather choose to have my eyes burnt in their sockets than to have been born without.
Anne Fortier
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For as long as I could remember, he had never worn a single piece of clothing that could be considered casual. Khaki shorts and golf shirts, to Umberto, were the garments of men who have no virtues left, not even shame.
Anne Fortier
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And whether or not we had now paid our dues, he was my blessing, and I was his.
Anne Fortier
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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
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You owe me nothing, but I want everything.
Anne Fortier
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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
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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
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When the old men fight, the young people die.
Anne Fortier
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While at Oxford in 1999, I met Jonathan Fortier, who is a Montreal-born Canadian. Despite the challenges of a transatlantic relationship, we remained keen on each other and eventually married in 2002.
Anne Fortier
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If you let go of me now,” I whispered, stretching against him, “it could be another six hundred years before you find me again. Are you willing to take that risk?
Anne Fortier
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A novel is, hopefully, the starting point of a conversation, one in which the author engages readers and asks that they see things from a different point of view than they might otherwise.
Anne Fortier
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Only weak men want women to be weak.
Anne Fortier
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...it is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see.
Anne Fortier