Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven.

The best artist has that thought alone Which is contained within the marble shell; The sculptor's hand can only break the spell To free the figures slumbering in the stone.

Let whoever may have attained to so much as to have the power of drawing know that he holds a great treasure.

Already at sixteen, my mind was a battlefield: my love of pagan beauty, the male nude, at war with my religious faith. A polarity of themes and forms: one spiritual, the other earthly.

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

If it be true that any beautiful thing raises the pure and just desire of man from earth to God, the eternal fount of all, such I believe my love.

Your greatness is measured by your horizons.