Quotes About Italian

Actually now I'm remembering that the goodbye chow isn't spelled that way. It's ciao or something weird like that. It's Italian, right? But I'm not an Italian gypsy, I'm a hungry gypsy. So spelling it chow makes total sense.)

I love Italian opera -- it's so reckless. Damn Wagner, and his bellowings at Fate and death. Damn Debussy, and his averted face. I like the Italians who run all on impulse, and don't care about their immortal souls, and don't worry about the ultimate.

The author concealed behind the pseudonym of Geber is probably an Italian Franciscan friar and lecturer named Paul of Taranto.

I love Italian food but that's too generic a term for what's available now: you have to narrow it down to Tuscan, Sicilian, and so on.

being always prepared for an engagement with the Italian fleet. It was an almost impossible undertaking. The Balkan campaigns Having crossed the Adriatic Sea and occupied Albania, Mussolini looked greedily at its neighbour Greece. The Greek dictator General Ioannis Metaxas was a Fascist and pro-Axis in sentiment. Mussolini thought the Greek population, if not

Ace sat down and inflated his cheeks like the wind gods in Italian paintings.

a frigid night of an Italian winter, crimson flows through the veins of nature's sweet orange, staining its flesh. Cold-pressing releases its addictive oil: tangy, warm, balsamic. Blends well with frankincense, cedar, and clove. And always transports me to Italy. —DB

After a long day, he cleaned up and met her almost every day after work to take her out for supper at an Italian restaurant in North Beach or a restaurant at the docks to get fresh-caught seafood. They feasted on crab sautéed in garlic and olive oil, hot clam chowder and fresh sourdough bread, and raw oysters shucked right off the boats at the pier.

This," said she, "is nearly the sense, or rather the meaning of the words, for certainly the sense of an Italian love-song must not be talked of,—but it is as nearly the meaning as I can give; for I do not pretend to understand the language. I am a very poor Italian scholar.

I ordered a pitcher of beer," Morelli said. "Hope that's okay." "It's perfect. I need it now." Morelli whistled through his teeth, and everyone jumped in the restaurant. He raised his hand and mouthed "Beer" to the waitress. "Gee, that's smooth," I said to Morelli. "I'm a Jersey Italian, and my girl needs a drink.

If she wasn't standing there, I'd grab you and shake you until the fillings fell out of your teeth. Police brutality. It has nothing to do with being a cop. It has to do with being Italian.

If she wasn't standing there, I'd grab you and shake you until the fillings fell out of your teeth. Police brutality. It has nothing to do with being a cop. It has to a do with being Italian.

The balcony encircled the entire room and provided access to two levels of towering carved oak bookshelves. A huge domed ceiling loomed above her, featuring an eighteenth-century Italian fresco. A large weather-beaten Coleman tent had been set up in front of a massive stone fireplace.

Connie is in her midthirties and lives with her widowed mother. The living arrangement isn't ideal for Connie, but she's a good Italian Catholic girl and family takes care of family.

The unlikely combination of potatoes and pasta does appear in some Italian recipes.

I had never seen an avocado until I came to London in 1994. They just weren't a feature of southern Italian cuisine.

I grew up in a big Italian family.

I love to listen to pop all the time! I like to be updated on the new hits; I think it's important for what we do. Among my favorites of all time is, of course, Madonna. But I also love Kylie, our little princess; Beyonce, Bruno Mars, and Justin Bieber. And I listen to Italian pop music like Tiziano Ferro.

When I was living in California, I would ride my bike and see homeless people pushing their grocery carts with all their belongings, and it really upset me. I always said if I had a bigger soapbox, I would do something. And I thought the best way was to cook food - I'm Italian.

Food was always a big part of my life. My grandfather was one of 14 kids, and his parents had a pasta factory, so as a kid, he and his siblings would sell pasta door to door. After he became a movie producer, he opened up De Laurentiis Food Stores - one in Los Angeles and one in New York.

Italians manifestly enjoy life, but a Frenchman on holiday is Eeyore with cancer.

Is it worth going into this admission process in just a little more detail? I think so, if only to appreciate the tendency the Italian authorities have of offering everybody a price (to endear themselves to the electorate) and then, since they can't actually afford to give it to everybody, setting up a maze, or obstacle race, to make sure that only those who really haggle for it (not those who need it) actually get it.

One of the most characteristic Italian emotions, it seems to me, is that mixture of envy, perplexity and wonder that comes when one realises that others are working the system far more effectively than oneself - said com'è? - this together with the knowledge that they are doing so and will continue to do so with absolute impunity. Until it dawns on you that the system was invented in order to be worked in this way.

It was to be, and still is, an absolute staple of the Italian railways, whether public or private, that in some way or other, acknowledged or unacknowledged, they were/ are being paid for, or hugely subsidized, by the state, a state that was/ is itself greatly in debt.