There was, I swore, no good in all the world; for even where goodness sought to find a way, it grew distorted, as in my mother's case. And yet through all her pietism surely she had been right! There was no peace, no happiness save in the cloister. And at last the full bitterness of penitence and regret overtook me when I reflected that by my own act I had rendered myself for ever unworthy of the cloister's benign shelter.
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Enjoining prayer upon them
In this cage there
A little on one
But once she is
And I am sorry
His tortures ended at
Leave now Panormitano she
Suddenly a great voice
I even fear that
We stood at gaze
Seen by the ruddy
Care for my beast
If you can t
But if Messer Cosimo
I tell you that
I insist upon it
The little lady whispered
A young painter Gianantonio
Nay I know that
As I stepped a
I tell you that
Madonna sent word that
There was something about
She set a trembling
The little lady whispered
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