Home > Author > Leonardo Donofrio
1 " Rome and New York were impressive, but they knew they were. They had the beauty of a vain woman who had squeezed herself into her favourite dress after hours of careful self worship. There was a raw, feral beauty about this landscape that was totally unselfconscious but no less real...There was no pomp or vainty here; this was an innocent, natural beauty, the best kind, like a woman first thing in the morning, lit up by the sun streaming through a window, who doesn't quite believe it when you tell her how beautiful she is. "
― Leonardo Donofrio , Old Country
2 " Before we're born we've all of us been dead for millions of years...but we're always afraid of going back... "
3 " Identity was a liquid state, ever interchangeable, and adaptable to its surroundings... It was better to not have favourites - a snake didn't mourn when it had to shed its skin. "
4 " Village life gently swirled around them, with the perpetual ebb and flow of people, scurrying in every direction. The village was a living, organic entity, with blood flowing through its veins, and with a definite pulse and heartbeat. It had its own distinct personality and its own dark caustic humour, and was constantly processing and regurgitating information through its winding, meandering streets. "
5 " Identity was just a box people liked to put themselves in, a mast to tether to in a storm, a security blanket. "
6 " Why is it when we were kids we looked up at the stars... But now they seem to be looking down on us...? "
7 " There's no such thing as good guys - there's only degrees of bad. "
― Leonardo Donofrio , The Killing of Bruno Rossi - Old Country Part Two
8 " Mercy is for the saints. For old ladies feeding cats… "
9 " Time is not on our side. There can be no hesitation - your aim has to be straight and true. Now is not the time to be scared of the dark.’Marco’s eyes were clearer. The dark cloud had passed over him for now.‘I’m not scared of the dark,’ he said. ‘The dark is scared of me… "
10 " The grave was over grown now. Once there would have always been the vivid smells and colours of fresh flowers and the corridors of the cemetery would have echoed with the sounds of tears and heartache; once this child and his death had been the focal point for generations of lives, had shaped the fate and fortune of countless people, and traumatised the entire village. Now there was only Sergio, and the once flawless statue of an angel, now stained and weathered, green moss growing across half his face. Sergio smiled and patted the statue’s head.‘Ahhh. My little boy,’ he said, smiling wistfully. ‘I remember you when there was not a mark on you. It’s a shame we all have to get old… Even statues of angels… "
