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I am sorry I didn’t tell you the truth before. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to. You kept asking about Romeo and what he was really like. I was hoping that”—he smiled wistfully—“you would recognize me.

Anne Fortier

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Anne Fortier
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: November 10
Novelist
Writer
DK
Wouldn
Wistfully
Tell
Romeo
Didn
Smiled
Truth
Hoping
Really
Kept
Would
Recognize
Like
Sorry
Asking

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Only weak men want women to be weak.
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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?
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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.
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And whether or not we had now paid our dues, he was my blessing, and I was his.
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We are all cups, and our destiny is poured according to measures we cannot understand, cannot influence.
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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.
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I think Shakespeare is everybody's treasure.
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Verona is a very beautiful city, but Siena just never ceases to fascinate me.
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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.
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Everything we say is a story. But nothing we say is just a story.
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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!
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.... death turns all men into great lovers. Would that they were equally ardent while the lady was still alive!
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I absolutely believe the past had its share of warrior women who fought like men. Whether some of these were the actual Amazons from Greek myth is another matter.
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Janice used to say that instinct was reason in a hurry I was not so sure about the reason part.
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...it is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see.
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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.
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Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow.
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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.
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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.
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In many ways, a degree in the history of ideas is the ideal training for an aspiring writer.
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