The Venetian artist Jacopo de' Barbari, whom Durer had met in Venice, visited Nuremberg in 1500, and Durer said that he learned much about the new developments in perspective, anatomy, and proportion from him. De' Barbari was unwilling to explain everything he knew, so Durer began his own studies, which would become a lifelong preoccupation. A series of extant drawings show Durer's experiments in human proportion, leading to the famous engraving of Adam and Eve (1504), which shows his subtlety while using the burin in the texturing of flesh surfaces. This is the only existing engraving signed with his full name. Durer made large numbers of preparatory drawings, especially for his paintings and engravings, and many survive, most famously the Betende Hande (English: Praying Hands, c. 1508 Albertina, Vienna), a study for an apostle in the Heller altarpiece. He also continued to make images in watercolour and bodycolour (usually combined), including a number of still lifes of meadow sections or animals, including his Young Hare (1502) and the Great Piece of Turf (1503, both also Albertina).

Question: "What sort of subjects were in Durer's artworks?"

Response: "Watercolour and bodycolour"

A: no

The next evening, she arrived with a stack of glistening stopboxes containing sushi, sashimi, oysters in their shells, and Terran vegetables fresh plucked from their hydroponic beds. Wondering about the reason for her extravagance, I asked how work had gone that day. "Emil came in. He's taking Dream's End." "Emil?" "You've no memory left, old one. Emil Malaquez." You did that to test my affections." "What?" "Calling him by his first name. I did that in a comedy once.'Nights with Karl and Groucho.' It was before your time." "The critics liked it." "I'm glad." A moment later: "That's not why I called him 'Emil'." "No. We lunched together. He's nice."

Question: "What three men do the two speakers call by first name?"

Response: "Karl"

A: yes

Allan crouched over his desk once more, pen in hand and mind blank. He contemplated a story, an outline he had laboriously constructed some time ago. He had filled his pen and raised it, the nib descending towards the paper, before the sound came: the gentle, persistent tapping of the gnarled, primeval willow touching the window with long, insistent fingers. His eyes awoke with a passionate, determined flame, though the only light came from the glutted moon. Allan filled page after page, the words escaping from his mind onto the paper. Where before they had marched in regiments, practiced in ranks and followed their leaders' commands, the words now escaped in their true forms, unhindered by any stricture. He continued long into the night, until the eldritch orb had sunk into the waiting hands of the willow, raised perpetually skyward. Arthur looked up from the results of a night's frenzied labors and looked Allan in the eye. "What is this?" he queried, indicating the pages he held in his left hand. "I decided that since I wasn't having much success with more traditional stories, I might see what sort of work I produced if I let my imagination go freely," Allan replied, somewhat less self-assured than he had been the previous night. "What in G-d's name could have possessed you to do such a thing," cried Arthur, nearly raising his voice. "After all I said the day before, why have you abandoned centuries of literary progress for some self-indulgent fantasy?" He shook the papers at Allan, raising them like a belt above the head of a disobedient son. "This is nothing but a glorified Grimm's tale, a miscarried child of Stoker, a creation less fit to be published than to be told around an open fire at the hovel of some peasant!" He spoke the last word with such heavy intonation that Allan shrank back before the physical wave of sound emanating from Arthur's throat. "Do you hate the modern system of literature? Do you personally despise the works the Enlightenment or the progress made since Shakespeare?" For a moment, Allan could hardly do more than shake his head. "No, of course not I " "Then why," Arthur barreled on, "do you disregard them all and return to this superstitious babble, this morbid, paganistic drivel?

Question: "What awoke the passion in Allan to begin writing that night?"

Response: "He had been drinking that night"

A:
no