Three miles long and two streets wide, the town curls around the bay ... a gaudy run with Mediterranean splashes of color, crowded... steep-pitched roofs, fishing piers and fishing boats whose stench of mackerel and gasoline is as aphrodisiac to the sensuous nose as the clean bar-whisky smell of a nightclub where call girls congregate.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I used to worship the mighty genius of Michael Angelo--that man who was great in poetry, painting, sculpture, architecture--great ...in every thing he undertook. But I do not want Michael Angelo for breakfast--for luncheon--for dinner--for tea--for supper--for between meals. I like a change, occasionally. In Genoa, he designed every thing; in Milan he or his pupils designed every thing; he designed the Lake of Como; in Padua, Verona, Venice, Bologna, who did we ever hear of, from guides, but Michael Angelo? In Florence, he painted every thing, designed every thing, nearly, and what he didn't design he used to sit on a favorite stone and look at, and they showed us the stone. In Pisa he designed everything but the old shot-tower, and they would have attributed that to him if it had not been so awfully out of the perpendicular. He designed the piers of Leghorn and the custom house regulations of Civita Vecchia. But, here--here it is frightful. He designed St. Peter's; he designed the Pope; he designed the Pantheon, the uniform of the Pope's soldiers, the Tiber, the Vatican, the Coliseum, the Capitol, the Tarpeian Rock, the Barberini Palace, St. John Lateran, the Campagna, the Appian Way, the Seven Hills, the Baths of Caracalla, the Claudian Aqueduct, the Cloaca Maxima--the eternal bore designed the Eternal City, and unless all men and books do lie, he painted every thing in it!... I never felt so fervently thankful, so soothed, so tranquil, so filled with a blessed peace, as I did yesterday when I learned that Michael Angelo was dead.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
A fair feeld ful of folk fand I there-betwene, Of alle maner of men, the mene and the riche,... Worching and wandringe as the world asketh. Some putte hem to plow, playede ful selde, In setting and sowing swunke ful harde, Wonne that these wastours with glotonye destroyeth.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
on a May morwening upon Malverne hilles Me befel a ferly, of fairye me thoughte;... I was wery ofwandred and wente me to reste Under a brod bank by a bournes side; And as I lay and lenede and lookede on the watres, I slomerede into a sleeping, it swyede so merye.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I saw a towr on a toft tryely y-maked; A deep dale benethe, a dungeoun thereinne... With deepe dikes and derke and dredful of sight.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »