La Primavera di Firenze

So let my dog explain it to you. After all, he isn't one to rely on intuition.

Held in great esteem by the peoples of Troy, Fiesole, and Rome.

The poet said: Lift your head and gaze upon the eternal dome—

A tree that bears sweet and sour pears can never produce sweet figs!

Veiled in sunlight, standing on the moon, wearing a crown of twelve stars—her ascension approaches.

Those hinges ... they're in need of some refinements!

A qualified model should be cold, slick, and unmoving, like a block of ice.

Birds never talk much. They only sing of spring, of tears about to fall, and of poetry.

Sadly, this was never about freedom. It was about order.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. Hide in plain sight, be one with the crowd.

The brilliance and hope of the renaissance.

I could never think of leaving. Let that song drift away to Tuscany!

Bonus Stage: The war goes on and on, and you're not allowed to turn back.

Bonus Stage: Arrows are always greedy—they are made to pierce through flesh and blood.

Bonus Stage: They chase and bite as ordered, disregarding the wounds on their bodies.

Bonus Stage: He grants the shining grace to whoever He wants.