Every step I took could lead me to glory or tragedy; every choice I made had a consequence. My fate was in my hands.

No truth can be determined that concerns the future.

Sometimes it’s the simplest things we should most long for.

You’ll fare beer without love. We Medici always do.” As soon as I spoke, I regretted it. I’d remembered Papa Clement’s phrase exactly, used it to the same horrid purpose. I saw her flinch, take a small step back. I wanted to console her, to somehow ease the harsh reality of what I’d said. But I could not. I would not lie to her nor pretend the task I set before her was anything other than what it was: an act of submission, which could entail the loss of her youthful dreams.

Where was it written that I, child of no one, deserved such joy? It only happened at night, this abyss of dread, never during the day. Only in the empty hours between today and yesterday, when I was alone with my sleeping lover and the weight of the past crept upon me like a reproachful ghost.

I turned on my heel and left her, exasperated that even as I worked my fingers to the bone to liberate women from our cloth chains, our minds remained as closed as ever to the possibility that we might deserve more than a husband, children, and growing old cooking sausage.

There are many ways to obtain our desires, ma petite. Remember that, for it will serve you well.

I fear I lose myself among books. I forget everything.

And I vowed that were it ever within my power, I would see to it that he had his voyage.

Since fortune was dragging its heels, I would lure it out with my hard work.