“You see?" Damien leaned over his desk and spread out half a dozen charcoal sketches. "These are only quick studies of course. But my agent in Florence tells me this artist, Leonardo, is a master and also quite an inventor of mechanical devices--which, as you know, are my passion. Leonardo just completed a portrait of Lisa de Giocondo. He calls it the Mona Lisa. I thought I might commission him to do a portrait of me, and while he's here, I can pick his mind for mechanical secrets. How does that sound?""Expensive," Gideon murmured.”

“The Mona Lisa, the Mona Lisa....Leonardo had eye trouble....Art couldn't explain it....But now we're safe, since science can explain it. Maybe Milton wrote Paradise Lost because he was blind? And Beethoven wrote the Ninth Symphony because he was deaf...”

“Umm, well do I have to tell you how it’s done?” I tease, as I get on my knees and lean over him, . A wide smile spreads over his face as I straddle his lap.“Oh, are you taking dominance? I think I like that.” He grips his hands on my hips, pulling me as close as he can get.”

“Leonardo's Mona Lisa is just a thousand thousand smears of paint. Michelangelo's David is just a million hits with a hammer. We're all of us a million bits put together the right way.”

“Rumfoord had known that Constant would try to debase the picture by using it in commerce. Constant's father had done a similar thing when he found he could not buy Leonardo's "Mona Lisa" at any price. The old man had punished Mona Lisa by having her used in an advertising campaign for suppositories. It was the free-enterprise way of handling beauty that threatened to get the upper hand.”

“Quit that." Lisa jabbed an elbow at my ribs."Quit what?""Quit looking at him like that," she warned in a hushed tone. "I'm not kidding, Amelie. He's dangerous. He boils kittens in ritual sacrifice."Katie wrinkled her nose. "He does not, Lisa.""You don't know that.”