Led by long years to my last hours, too late, O world, I know your joys for what they are. You promise a peace which is not yours to give and the repose that dies before it is born. The years of fear and shame to which Heaven now set a term, renew nothing in me but the old sweet error in which, living overlong a man kills his soul with no gain to his body. I say and I know having put it to the proof, that he has the better part in Heaven whose death falls nearest his birth.

Beauty depends on purpose. It is in the elements best suited to their purpose or aim that beauty shines forth most strongly.

Perchance that I might learn what pity is, That I might laugh at erring men no more.

I created a vision of David in my mind and simply carved away everything that was not David.

The hand that follows intellect can achieve.

Genius is eternal patience.

The idea is there locked inside. All you have to do is remove the excess stone.