To Have A Crisis, And Act Upon

How Do You Think It Would Feel To Be Obliged To Ask For A Seat-belt Extender On An Airplane? For The Unfashionably Bulgy, Life Is A Series Of Small Humiliations.

Every 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.

One Can Be Tired Of Rome After Three Weeks And Feel One Has Exhausted It; After Three Months One Feels That One Has Not Even Scratched The Surface Of Rome; And After Six Months One Wishes Never To Leave It.

It'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.

Food Is My Drug Of Choice.