From such a gentle thing, from such a fountain of all delight, my every pain is born.

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

There is an angel imprisoned in it and I must set it free.

I feast on wine and bread, and feasts they are.

There is no greater harm than that of time wasted.

A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.

Lord, make me see thy glory in every place.