"His flesh, that stuff full of veins, nerves, tendons, glands, and bones; full of instincts and necessities; the flesh that sweats and stinks; flesh which deforms and sickens, ulcerates and is covered with wrinkles, pimples, warts, and hairs; that bestial stuff, flesh, flourished in him with a species of impudence..."- Gabriele D'Annunzio, 'The Triumph of Death'
