But then why, when talking on the phone, did they quarrel, on average at least once every four sentences? Maybe, though the inspector, it was an effect of the distance between them becoming less and less tolerable with each passing… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
Montalbano felt moved. This was real friendship, Sicilian friendship, the kind based on intuition, on what was left unsaid. With a true friend, one never needs to ask, because the other understands on his own accordingly. — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“rosticceria . . . cuddriruni . . . arancini supplì: A rosticceria is a take-out restaurant serving mostly roast meats; cuddriruni is a Sicilian sort of focaccia, served with a… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“They ate in religious silence, the corners of their mouths smeared with ricotta cream. Which, the rules say, must be removed with a slow,… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“In grammar school he’d had an old priest as his religion teacher. “Truth is light,” the priest had said one day. Montalbano, never very… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
Wearing glasses for reading meant surrendering to old age without the least bit of a fight. — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“It meant that, today, to enter any place whatsoever – an airport, a bank, a jeweller’s or watchmaker’s shop – you had to submit… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“To distract himself, he formulated a proposition. A philosophical proposition? Maybe, but tending towards "weak thought"--exhausted thought, in fact. He even gave this proposition… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“From the pit of his stomach a violent spasm of nausea rose up and seized his throat. He ran to the bathroom, barely able… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“Giulio was against our meeting. He didn't want me getting mixed up in things that, in his opinion, were no concern of mine. For… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
The memory of the aged becomes clearer and clearer with time. It has no pity. — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
“And in our dark days, with so many threatening clouds on the horizon, he concluded, we puff up a story like this to drug… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
But then why, when talking on the phone, did they quarrel, on average at least once every four sentences? Maybe, though the inspector, it… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
Montalbano felt moved. This was real friendship, Sicilian friendship, the kind based on intuition, on what was left unsaid. With a true friend, one… — Andrea Camilleri Copy Share Image
