In “The Art of Travel”, Alain de Botton wrote:
“Travelers set off to investigate.  In 1739, the poet Thomas Gray undertook a walking tour of the Alps, the first of many such self-conscious pursuits of the sublime, and afterwards reported, ‘In our little journey up to the Grande Chartreuse, I do not remember to have gone ten paces without an exclamation that there was no restraining. Not a precipice, not a torrent, not a cliff, but is pregnant with religion and poetry.'”Venice was such a place for us.  There was no restraining.  The city is saturated with bright colors and mixed with the poetry and rhythm of voices and music and water gently lapping against piling and pier.  We have seen pictures, we have watched travel shows, but nothing could prepare us for what we found upon investigating on our own.   Italy started out as just a trip, and I figured Venice just a check on my list, but upon considerable reflection on our images, and audio, I believe that the place has captured our hearts.  We will have to go back.