First, are you our sort of a person? Do you wear A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch, A brace or…

The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment, The illusion of a Greek necessity Flows in the scrolls…

“Attack is more piquant than concord,” but when     You tell me frankly that you would like to feel       My flesh beneath your…

(Called ‘The Faultless Painter’) But do not let us quarrel any more, No, my Lucrezia; bear with me for once: Sit down…