An artist does his most difficult work when he steps back from the blank canvas and thinks about what he is going to create.
If I love in thee, beloved, only what thou lovest most, do not be angry; for so one spirit is enamoured of another.
A good sculpture can be rolled downhill without breaking.
Serene I fold my hands and wait.
My soul can find no staircase to Heaven unless it be through Earth's loveliness.
Is it any wonder, since, when near the fire, I was melted and burned, if now that it's extinguished outside me, it besets and consumes me inside, and bit by bit reduces me to ashes?