Anne Fortier (born 1971) is a Danish-Canadian writer who has lived in the US and Canada since 2002. (wikipedia)
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.
...it is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see.
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.
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.
You owe me nothing, but I want everything.
I did not know my soul until I saw it's reflection in your eyes.
Don't underestimate the power of events that happened a long time ago. That is the tragic flaw of modern man.
It's what we call a dolce pazzia... a sweet madness. Once you feel it, you will never want to leave it.
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.
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!