There are depictions of Dante's limbo by Botticelli, by Doré - and by Blake.
Inside, there are depictions of Jesus Christ similar to those seen on Russian icons, as well as photos of Pope John Paul II.
In addition to portraits of Louis and Eugénie, there are depictions of public works and visiting dignitaries, letters, diaries, bibelots, medals and an imperial chamber pot.
A Buddhist spirit, dressed in polka-dotted underpants, stands in a "Saturday Night Fever" pose while in the background there are depictions of everything from Spider-Man to the Dalai Lama.
There are depictions of torches and crowns and gowns everywhere; hand-held desktop versions of the statue; and a woman-size Lady Liberty made from thousands of jelly beans.
There are depictions of cotton flowers and marble busts of the men who made the city great the last time around: dynamic men, radical even, bewhiskered historic figures, like the politician Richard Cobden.
There are depictions of shoppers at Century 21 ("like being let loose in a costume museum") or cab rides up the F.D.R. Drive ("by the Lower East Side playing fields and their antiquated stadium lighting banked in uneven clusters and resembling graying dowager diamonds") that should delight New Yorkers.
But there are depictions of naked women or goddesses from earlier ages than the Classical era – and many of them exhibit a full figure.
There are depictions of her first therapy session (she was nine), of the anticlimactic loss of her virginity in college and the predatory older men she has to navigate as a young writer.
There are depictions of blameworthy activities, from gossip to murder, with their corresponding punishments.
