'The squalor of Rome is certainly a stubborn fact, and there is no denying that it is a dirty place. 'Don't talk to me of liking Rome', an old sojourner lately said to me; 'you don't really like it till you like the dirt.' This statement was a shock to my nascent passion; but - I blush to write it - I am growing to think there is something in it. 'What you call dirt', an excellent authority has affirmed, 'I call colour;' and it is certain that, if cleanliness is next to godliness, it is a very distant neighbour to chiaroscuro. That I have came to relish dirt as dirt, I hesitate yet to affirm; but as I admit as I walk about the streets and glance under black archways into dim old courts and up mouldering palace facades at the coloured rags that flap over the twisted balustrades of balconies, I find I very much enjoy their 'tone'.'
from Transatlantic Sketches - Henry James
