Leonardo da Vinci Head of Christ painting

Leonardo da Vinci Head of Christ paintingLeonardo da Vinci Mona Lisa Painting paintingRembrandt Rembrandt night watch painting
now that was apt to get worse rather than better. Apt? Dead certain to.
And his wife, while she mended, was thinking: such a tragedy. Such a burden for her. Poor dear Mary. How on earth is she to manage. Of course it’s still entirely possible that he isn’t—passed away. But that could make matters even more—tragic, for both of them. Such an active man, unable to support his family. How dreadful, in any event. Of course, we can help. But not with the hardest of the burden. Poor dear child. And the poor children. And beneath such unspoken words, while with her weak eyes she bent deeply to her mending, her generous and unreflective spirit was more deeply grieved than she could find thought for, and more resolute than any thought for resoluteness could have made it. How very swiftly life goes! she thought. It seems only yesterday that she was my little Mary, or that Jay first came to call. She looked up from her mending into the silent light and shadow, and the kind of long and profound sighing of the heart flowed out of her which, excepting music. was her only way of yielding to sadness.
“We must be very good to them, Joel,” she said.