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| Gustave Courbet Head of Model ca. 1862 oil on canvas Museum Gouda |
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| Gustave Courbet Woman with Jewel Box 1867 oil on canvas Musée des Beaux-Arts de Caen |
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| Gustave Courbet Portrait of politician Emile Ollivier ca. 1860 oil on canvas Neue Pinakothek, Munich |
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| Gustave Courbet Study of arts patron Alfred Bruyas 1854 oil on canvas Musée Fabre, Montpellier |
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| Alfred Eisenstaedt Stage Rehearsal, Metropolitan Opera House, New York 1942 gelatin silver print San Diego Museum of Art |
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| Alfred Eisenstaedt Paris Opera Ballet 1964 gelatin silver print San Diego Museum of Art |
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| Alfred Eisenstaedt Arturo Toscanini at the Bayreuth Festival 1932 gelatin silver print San Diego Museum of Art |
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| Alfred Eisenstaedt Carole Lombard in Hollywood 1938 gelatin silver print San Diego Museum of Art |
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| Victor Vasarely Sikra MC 1968 screenprint Akron Art Museum, Ohio |
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| Victor Vasarely Folklore 1963 oil on canvas Phoenix Art Museum, Arizona |
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| Victor Vasarely Ondocto Y 1976 acrylic on linen Phoenix Art Museum, Arizona |
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| Victor Vasarely Aran 1964 casein on board Phoenix Art Museum, Arizona |
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| Tiffany & Co. Pond Lily Mirror ca. 1905 bronze and glass Art Institute of Chicago |
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| Tiffany & Co. Floriform Vase ca. 1895 glass New Orleans Museum of Art |
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| Tiffany & Co. Floriform Vase ca. 1900 glass Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, California |
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| Tiffany & Co. Brooch with Medusa Head ca. 1880 amethyst intaglio and diamonds mounted in platinum Crocker Art Museum, Sacramento, California |
from Part Three of The Age of Anxiety
But here they may not linger long. Emble says to Rosetta:
A private plane, its propeller tied
With red ribbons is ready waiting
To take us into town.
Malin says to Quant:
A train whistles
For the last time. We must leave at once.
And so by air, by rail, they turn inland again towards a common goal.
Quant says:
Autumn has come early; evening falls;
Our train is traversing at top speed
A pallid province of puddles and stumps
Where helpless objects, an orphaned quarry,
A waif of a works, a widowed engine,
For a sorry second sigh and are gone
As we race through the rain with rattling windows
Bound for a borough all bankers revere.
Rosetta says:
Lulled by an engine's hum,
Our insulated lives
Go floating freely through
Space in a metal spore.
White hangs the waning moon,
A scruple in the sky,
And constellations crowd
Our neighborhood the night.
– W.H. Auden (1944-46)