Inside me I'm Ghanaian, and I'm proud to be African. But of course I'm Italian. I was born in Italy. I've never been to Africa in my life, but I will go one day.
My Italian-American heritage, of which I'm very proud and with which I identify strongly, surfaces in several of my novels.
Rent Control was an interesting movie. It was directed by... I had done a couple of plays off Broadway, and this Italian director came, his name was Gian Luigi Polidoro, and he determined I was the person to play the lead in his low-budget comedy. He'd won an award at the Venice Film Festival, and... He was, y'know, a skilled director.
[When I'll be old I see myself] as a world champion, on a big farm with an Italian-style, big family with a whole bunch of grandchildren. And the foundations for that I have already laid!
I could play Arab roles, even German roles, Italian roles because I had that look.
Border agents have now been issued air guns that shoot pepper balls at people coming across the Mexican border. Have they thought this through? Is that going to bother people from Mexico? Pepper balls? Don't these people eat jalapenos? Isn't that like firing meatballs at an Italian guy?
Elgar is not manic enough to be Russian, not witty or pointilliste enough to be French, not harmonically simple enough to be Italian and not stodgy enough to be German. We arrive at his Englishry by pure elimination.
It is interesting to note that the best periods of Italian Horror films came out of the Sixties, when Italy was enjoying a carnival period of phenomenal optimism, and the shadowy side surfaced with all of its attendant dark, beautiful, baroque, catholic symbolism.
We are Germans. We are Armenians. French, Italian, Russian, American, Asian, African... many other nationalities. We are Christians, Jewish, Muslim and Hindu. We are black, we are white. We are a community of some many differences, so complex and yet so simple. We do not need to have war!
I've heard it said that if you know English, Spanish, Italian, and I think it's French, you can go just about anywhere in this world...except for China where they have all those derelicts.
My parents could not be more Italian.
You try to come up with new ideas, but in the end, people just want to eat Italian food.
The usual struggle squeezing my bloated Citroën, absurdly named “Picasso,” in or out of any old Italian town. I should be taking a year over this and doing it on a donkey. Eventually found the road to the church of the Madonna of San Biagio, a foursquare temple sitting all alone in the plain. Sangallo's fantasy of the Doric order in honey-colored sandstone, with shell-niches, rosettes, oculi under heavy entablatures. Any one ignorant of geometry scarcely dare enter this shrine to number, measure, and weight. So clean and crisp I could eat it for breakfast.
The earliest movies that I loved were French movies and Italian movies. I grew up watching those kind of movies and often find the truest looks at human nature - you can find them in another countrys movies.
In Italian, the word for novel is romanzo, "the romance." The English is "novel" - something new. Both of those elements, experimentation and love, are fundamental to the form.
But can I tell the genuine-article Italian from the poseur Italian? No. To me they all seem like poseurs.
The school was nothing but reminiscence - of an Italian hill town, a French abbey, an English academy, the different sources improbably but convincingly melded into a fantasy about the classic sites of Europe as imagined by exiles from cold peripheral lands, nostalgia about somebody else's past.
Rocky is a poor Italian boy from a poor Italian family, and he appreciates the buck more than almost anybody. He's only got two halfway decent purses so far, and it was like a tiger tasting blood
At one point Trudeau mentioned to me that the National Gallery wanted to buy a masterpiece by the great Italian painter Lotto, and it needed a million dollars from the Treasury Board. "Is that Lotto-Quebec or Lotto-Canada?" I joked, but I got the message, and the National Gallery got the painting.
I can read more languages than I speak! I speak French and Italian - not very well, alas, but I can get by. I read German and Spanish. I can read Latin (I did a lot of Latin at school.) I'm afraid I do not speak any African languages, although I can understand a little bit of the Zulu-related languages, but only a tiny bit.
The Prelude to Tristan and Isolde reminds me of the old Italian painting of a martyr whose intestines are slowly unwound from his body on a reel.
I beg you, put an end to the occupation. I beg the Italian government and the Italian people to put pressure on the government to pull out.
There's no genetic basis for any kind of rigid ethnic or racial classification. I'm always asked is there Greek DNA or an Italian gene, but, of course, there isn't. We're very closely related.
Fascism was part of the absolute evil. (...) We have to denounce the ashaming pages in the history of our past. (...) There included all the pages related to the discrimination and the persecution of jews and, more in general, of minoritires. And therefore that one [The Italian Social Republic of Salò] is also included.
Also we Italians have something to Elvis Presley: to offer one of the rare occasions when we prefer to be Italian rather than American.
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