Mary Jo Salter

“he’d have his thugunderling slash her face,her living flesh, with a toolnot so unlike the onethat he alone, the masterhad been skilled enough to wield,watching the marble yieldto each sweet, painstaking strokeof chisel against cheekuntil, so real, she fairlycried out for more.”

“either alone suffices(love or art, that is)to lead a man to believewhole days can be best spentlost in a woman’s hair”

“Oh the inconstant Costanza,true-to-life but untrue!”