The past is a sorry country.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONThe past is a sorry country.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONWeather creates character.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONMy mother was my first jealous lover.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONSometimes I think that just not thinking of oneself is a form of prayer. . .
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONCollecting is like sex; satisfaction renews and creates new appetites.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONIt’s the perpetually unfinished quality of housework that makes it oppressive – it never ends, like bad psychoanalysis, or a dream interrupted. It is paradoxically true that it is exactly this daily re-creation of the world that lends housekeeping its nobility and romance.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONFacts mean nothing to wounded feelings.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONSilence is the garment of light.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONTo sleep is an act of faith.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONThe dream police will not let me have sexual fantasies.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONOne feels a quickening of the pulse when one crosses a border.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONFood is my drug of choice.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONItalians’ relationship to food is loving, informal, and gay.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONViolence is its own anesthetist. The numbness it induces feels very much like calm.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONthe islands of Italy combine all the elements – fire, water, earth, and air – and that is irresistible.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISONEvery house we have lived in, every building to which our hands have lent their work, belongs to us by virtue of love or of regret.
BARBARA GRIZZUTI HARRISON