Lord, grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish.

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.

So now, from this mad passion Which made me take art for an idol and a king I have learnt the burden of error that it bore And what misfortune springs from man's desire... The world's frivolities have robbed me of the time That I was given for reflecting upon God.

It is well with me only when I have a chisel in my hand.

Even if you are divine, you don't disdain male consorts.

Dear to me is sleep: still more, being made of stone, While pain and guilt still linger here below, Blindness and numbness--these please me alone; Then do not wake me, keep your voices low.

I was never the kind of painter or sculptor who kept a shop.