“The name of Italy has magic in its very syllables.”

“He stood there unsteady in the cold, mumbling syllables which almost resolved into her name, as though he could recall, and summon back, a time before death entered the world, before accident, before magic, and before magic despaired, to become religion.”

“You may not believe in magic but something very strange is happening at this very moment. Your head has dissolved into thin air and I can see the rhododendrons through your stomach. It's not that you are dead or anything dramatic like that, it is simply that you are fading away and I can't even remember your name.”

“..I love your name. I don't want to cheat myself out of a single syllable.”

“The spirit of Italy has taken over my soul. I'm relaxed, happy, warm. It's as if i'm part of the earth, not just standing out it.”

“Italy has been made; now it remains to make Italians”