Simonetta Quotes

“But despite this feeling of loss as we wound our way along the Arno inward to Florence, I was full of anticipation for my new life. I was experiencing a duality of feelings, just like the river we were traveling seemed to be two rivers. In many ways, the Arno still reminds me of myself.”
― Fay Picardi, Simonetta

“No! No! Lorenzo! Lorenzo! I am coming! I am coming to help you"
My voice is so loud and so full of fright I am sure it can be heard outside Il Duomo as far away as the Medici palace. Through the shadows I see the knife descend. Once. Twice. A third time. But I hear nothing. In the dim light, I can barely make out the distant face of Lorenzo. I thrust out both arms, trying to reach him, but Lorenzo's face keeps fading from me as I move toward him. I will not leave Lorenzo in danger nor will I leave the Cathedral while danger is anywhere near him.
Then he is gone. The dagger is gone. What remains surprises me. In the crowd close to where Lorenzo had stood, I catch a glimpse of my father-in-law, Pietro.
But where is Giuliano? Where is my love?”
― Fay Picardi, Simonetta

“Simonetta opens the cassetta, replaces the first letter on top of the others and pulls a second from beneath it. She opens it quickly. She is moving like someone hungry for more food, impatient to reread those experiences which have caused so many changes within her.”
― Fay Picardi, Simonetta

“In the early fall, just as the elms began to turn, my mother made huge bowls of pesto which were stories in glazed earthenware jugs for us to use the rest of the year. She did not permit the servants to help, not even to strip and wash the basil leaves. She was sole proprietress of her pesto. All winter she added spoonfuls of it to sauces and soups or ladled cupfuls over the fresh pasta the servants made. Since that time I have eaten many expensive, even imported, delicacies, but to this day, the meals made with my mother's pesto please me the most.”
― Fay Picardi, Simonetta

“There it is. The Arno flowing swiftly with the spring thaw. Its furor fills me with a sense of abandon I have rarely felt during these last weeks. Today, I will no longer be Piero Vespucci's daughter-in-law to be bartered to procure favors. I will again me my mother's youngest and most beloved child. I will imagine I am free. I will take flight over Florence, soaring as a hawk would soar. Perhaps one of Lorenzo's hawks. High over Florence. High over the hills.”
― Fay Picardi, Simonetta

“Art and ardor are combined. Only in Florence could such delightful and imaginative design be created. And here I am years later still asking myself who those two lovers might be.”
― Fay Picardi, Simonetta