typeracer

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man. Of my virtue I am justly proud. Et tibi Pater... Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd. Quia peccavi nimis... Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there - why her smold'ring eyes still scorch my soul? Cogitatione... I feel her, I see her! The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control! Verbo et opere...