Love & Gelato

You know, people come to Italy for all sorts of reasons, but when they stay, it's for the same two things." "What?" "Love and gelato.

Turns out there's a reason they call it falling in love, because when it happens - really happens - that's exactly how it feels. There's no doing or trying, you just let go and hope that someone's going to be there to catch you.

A life without love is like a year without summer.

You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room

What I really want is someone who will wake me up early so I don't miss a sunrise.

[She was] like an exclamation mark in human form.

And why did he have to call me “quiet”? I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency—like just because I didn’t put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room

Hey, I just thought of something.” “What?” “When we’re together, we make one whole Italian.

So... Italian gelato. Take the deliciousness of a regular ice-cream cone, times it by a million, then sprinkle it with crushed-up unicorn horns.

I didn't get to stop missing her. Ever. It was the thing that my life had handed me, and no matter how heavy it was, I was never going to be able to set it down. But that didn't mean I wasn't going to be okay. Or even happy. I couldn't imagine it yet exactly, but maybe a day would come when the hole inside me wouldn't ache quite so badly and I could think about her, and remember, and it would be all right. That day felt light-years away, but right at this moment I was standing on a tower in the middle of Tuscany and the sunrise was so beautiful that it hurt. And that was something.

I want to try for another record tomorrow. What was that last kind I had? With the chocolate chunks?” “Stracciatella.” “I’m naming my first daughter after it.” “Lucky her.

I needed to find The Dress. You know, the once-in-a-lifetime dress guaranteed to make anyone fall in love with you.

You're the one I like. Maybe love.

Hey what's the matter? Are you crying?" I shook my head, slowly opening my eyes and smiling at him again. "No, it's nothing." But it wasn't nothing. I didn't want to ruin the moment by explaining to him, but suddenly it was like I had a zoomed-out view of this moment and I never, ever (ever) wanted it to end. I had Nutella on my face and my first real love sprawled out next to me and any minute the stars were going to sink back into the sky in preparation for a new day, and for the first time in a long time, I couldn't wait for what the day would bring. And that was something.

Well, in that case, no. I’m not your father. But if you go with another definition, meaning ‘a man who wants to be in your life and help raise you,’ then yes. I am.

It wasn't a little kiss, Not like your first peck or like the time you made out with your junior high boyfriend behind the movie theater. It was throw-your-arms-around-his-neck, bury-your-fingers-in-his-hair, why-haven't-we-done-this-before kissing

LINA's RULES OF SCOOTER RIDING: 1. Never ride a scooter sopping wet. 2. Never ride a scooter wearing a short skirt. 3. Try to pay attention to the light signals. Otherwise, every time the driver accelerates you'll smash into him and you'll have this awkward untangling moment and then you'll worry he's thinking you're doing it on purpose. 4. If by chance you aren't abiding by rule number two, be sure to avoid eye contact with male drivers. Otherwise they'll honk enthusiastically every time your skirt flies up.

I thought I wanted caprice and fire, but it turns out that what I really want is someone who will wake me up early so I don't miss a sunrise.

You're baking?" "Yes." "It's almost midnight." "I specialize in late-night kitchen disasters.

I reached reverently into the bag, then took a big bite of the cornetta. It was warm and melty and tasted like every perfect thing that could ever happen to you. Italian summers. First loves. Chocolate.

And yes. I’d totally just compared the only guy I’d ever felt this way about to a ham sandwich.

He turned around and I felt the shards of my broken heart crumble to dust.

Sonia met my eyes in the mirror. 'You know, people come to Italy for all sorts of reasons, but when they stay its for the same two things.' 'What?' 'Love and gelato.' 'Amen,' Howard said.

Before I could catch it, my heart slammed straight down to my feet, leaving me with a massive hole in my chest. It was amazing how I could just be going along, doing okay, and then suddenly-wham-I missed her so much even my fingernails hurt.

I hated being called quiet. People always said it like it was some kind of deficiency - like just because I didn't put everything out there right away, I was unfriendly or arrogant. My mom had understood. You may be slow to warm up, but once you do, you light up the whole room.

Tonight I watched the sun set at Ponte Vecchio. I think its safe to say I have finally found the place that feels right to me. I just can't believe I had to come halfway across the world to find it.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I really like you. A lot. But if you don't feel the same way about me, it's okay. Because you're really important to me, and I hope we can still be friends.

Sorry are you asleep?' 'Not anymore. I saw Howard's phone number and had a panic attack.

It was like walking through a scene from an Italian movie. The street was lined with clothing stores and little coffee shops and restaurants, and people kept calling to one another from windows and cars. Halfway down the street a horn beeped politely and everyone cleared out of the street to make way for an entire family crowded onto a scooter. There was even a string of laundry hanging between two buildings, a billowy red housedress flapping right in the middle of it. Any second now a director was going to jump out and yell, Cut!