leonardo da vinci painting

leonardo da vinci painting
leonardo da vinci the last supper
mona lisa painting
mona lisa smile
¡¡¡¡- 'And I am sure we never had a word of difference respecting it, except when Mr. Copperfield objected to my threes and fives being too much like each other, or to my putting curly tails to my sevens and nines,' resumed my mother in another burst, and breaking down again. ¡¡¡¡'You'll make yourself ill,' said Miss Betsey, 'and you know that will not be good either for you or for my god-daughter. Come! You mustn't do it!' ¡¡¡¡This argument had some share in quieting my mother, though her increasing indisposition had a larger one. There was an interval of silence, only broken by Miss Betsey's occasionally ejaculating 'Ha
oil painting
!' as she sat with her feet upon the fender. ¡¡¡¡'David had bought an annuity for himself with his money, I know,' said she, by and by. 'What did he do for you?' ¡¡¡¡'Mr. Copperfield,' said my mother, answering with some difficulty, 'was so considerate and good as to secure the reversion of a part of it to me.' ¡¡¡¡'How much?' asked Miss Betsey. ¡¡¡¡'A hundred and five pounds a year,' said my mother. ¡¡¡¡'He might have done worse,' said my aunt. ¡¡¡¡The word was appropriate to the moment. My mother was so much worse that Peggotty, coming in with the teaboard and candles, and seeing at a glance how ill she was, - as Miss Betsey might have