'says with the grin of hatred as was horrible to accept my love when your mad, you'll be amazed that I had never been able to turn these features on the occasion of love ... this rebuke, even if true (which in fact nature has not given me his most choice either in form or in color) will not be your defense ... that since he kissed your lips my first time, many years ago, when your eyes kindled a fire to my sweet, are not revoked nor changed in the mind or body, or nothing if not a love that does not like changes after many years and many trials'.
Shelley, a poem Venetian
Toulouse Lautrec
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