The heaven that rolls around cries aloud to you while it displays its eternal beauties, and yet your eyes are fixed upon the earth alone.
You can stay and die or you can walk your ugly ass back through that gate. It's your call, pal.
Justice does not descend from its own pinnacle.
The truth thy speech doth show, within my heart reproves the swelling pride.
All of nature is God's art.
Art, as far as it is able, follows nature, as a pupil imitates his master; thus your art must be, as it were, God's grandchild.