Anne Fortier

“Juliet by Ann Fortier. The Maestro (Chapter5) ... the slight nausea he was feeling must be somewhat near what God was feeling every minute of every day. If indeed He felt anything. He was, after all, a divine being, and it was entirely conceivable that divinity was incompatible with emotion. If not, then the Maestro sincerely pitied God, for the history of mankind was nothing more than a long tale of tears.”

“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.”

“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?”

“The Salimbeni genes,” I observed, rolling my eyes, “are yet again rearing their ugly head. Let me guess, if we were married, you would chain me in the dungeon every time you left the house?”He considered it, but not for long. “I wouldn’t have to. Once you get to know me, you will never want anyone else. And”—he finally put down the teaspoon—“you will forget everyone you knew before.”

“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.”

“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.”

“There are some things," he said softly, "that a princess has to do alone.”

“What kind of woman agrees to a blind date at the top of a tower? And what kind of man spends his nights with a helmet on his head, visor closed, communicated with people via tennis balls?”

“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.”

“There is a trick to flying. The angels told me." He had smiled at my wide-eyed awe. "You need to forget everything you know as a human being. When you are human, you discover that there is great power in hating the earth. And it can almost make you fly. But it never will."I had frowned, not quite understanding him. "So, what's the trick?""Love the sky.”

“...and whether or not we had now paid our dues, he was my blessing, and I was his...”

“Janice used to say that instinct was reason in a hurry; I was not so sure about the reason part.”

“If you want to keep the bad guys in check, make sure the good guys are armed.”

“I must have you, completely, at my table and in my bed, or I shall waste away like a starving prisoner. There you have it; forgive the lack of poesy.”

“It didn't really matter that we couldn't understand each other, what mattered were those little smiles and nods that said so much more than words.”

“In her exquisite handwriting, Eva Maria anticipated that her clothes might not fit me perfectly. But, she concluded, it was better than running around naked.”

“...it is fifty percent what they see, and fifty percent what they think they see.”

“He is right. You have to feel it" - she reached out and touched a hand to my chest- "in here.”

“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.”

“Look, 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, excuse me for taking care of them so you can have your peace.”

“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.”

“Instead, a strange voice whispered, "How can love be a sin? If God did not want us to love, then why did he create such beauty as yours?" Giulietta gasped in surprise and fear. "Romeo?”

“Giulietta pressed the letter against her heart. "I know what you are thinking. You wish to protect me...And you think Romeo will cause me pain. Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow. Well, perhaps you are right...but I should rather choose to have my eyes burnt in their sockets than to have been born without.”

“He now knew that the words he had spoken to Maestro Ambrogio had been prophetic; with Giulietta in his arms, all other women--past, present, and future--simply ceased to exist.”

“She squared her shoulders against his charms. "It depends on who kisses me. I highly suspect a kiss from you would instantly void sixteen years of savings.""What good are savings if you never spend them?”

“You owe me nothing, but I want everything.”

“I did not know my soul until I saw it's reflection in your eyes.”

“Death turns all men into great lovers. Would that they were equally ardent while the body was still alive!”

“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.”

“Happiness is the worst threat to my business. Dreams are what it's all about. Frustrations. Fantasies that never come true.”

“To Hell with the cherub!” roared Comandante Marescotti.”

“It is a great honor to meet you, young man. Now, here is someone very special that I want you to meet.” And she pulled one of the little girls into her lap, and said, as if she was presenting a wonder of the world, “This is Giulietta.” Romeo stuck the biscotto in his pocket. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She’s wearing a diaper.”

“Knights don’t cry.” “They certainly do,” said the Comandante, taking the boy’s hand, “but only when they are clean and dressed, and wearing shoes. Do you think you can wait that long?” “I’ll do my best.”

“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!”

“You can put a girlfriend on a motorcycle, yes, but what about your children and your bridesmaids, and your mother-in-law?”

“don’t invite a girl on board if you don’t have a six-pack antilock braking system.”

“Constancy is my true nature! I shall never look at another woman for the rest of my days, or rather, I shall look, but they shall be to me like chairs, or tables. Not that I intend to sit, of course, or eat off them, but in the sense that they are but furniture.”

“..myself standing in front of Monticello wearing a veil and a wedding gown, hand in hand with a very muscular President Jefferson.”

“In no other place had I ever seen female purity celebrated by a 355-foot phallic object. But maybe that was me.”

“We have come here for revenge,” Giulietta corrected him “and to gut that monster, Salimbeni, and string him up by his own entrails …” “Ahem,” said Friar Lorenzo, “we will, of course, exercise Christian forgiveness—” Giulietta nodded eagerly, hearing nothing. “… While we feed him to his dogs, piece by piece!”

“In fact, I shall drink several, and perchance the wine will send me straight to Paradise that I may meet her in person and …” Friar Lorenzo sprung forward and hissed, for no apparent reason, “Before it throws you from grace, Messer Romeo, bridle your tongue!” The young man grinned, “… pay my respects.”

“Careful!” warned Friar Lorenzo, trying to close the lid. “You know not what infection those lips carry!”

“Did your patron specify a motif? Usually I do a standard Virgin Mary from the waist up, and in this case I will throw in Babe Jesus for free, since you have come all this way.”

“It put him in mind of the grand death of Julius Caesar, stabbed by a throng of Roman senators and dying very decoratively, scarlet on marble, harmoniously framed by columns. Would that some great Sienese could bring himself to die in a like manner, allowing the Maestro to indulge in the scene on a local wall.”

“Shush!” said Ambrogio to the dog, “I advise you to hide, in case it is the horned one trying to get in. I know him a great deal better than you.”

“But most important, it made me look as if I ate hidden heirlooms—and financial advisors—for breakfast.”

“And so we walked through customs arm in arm; while the officer barely looked at my passport, he did look twice at Eva Maria’s cleavage.”

“Great love, you believe, carries the seeds of great sorrow.”