Each has his own happiness in his hands, as the artist handles the rude clay he seeks to reshape it into a figure; yet it is the same with this art as with all others: only the capacity for it is innate; the art itself must be learned and painstakingly practiced.

Our senses don't deceive us: our judgment does

Be always resolute with the present hour. Every moment is of infinite value.

Destiny grants us our wishes, but in its own way, in order to give us something beyond our wishes.

God help us -- for art is long, and life so short.

The man of understanding finds everything laughable.

Napoleon for the sake of a good name broke in pieces half the world.