No one has mastery, Before he is at the end, Of his art and his life.

Trifles make perfection, and perfection is no trifle.

If people knew how hard I worked to get my mastery, it wouldn't seem so wonderful at all.

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.

I have never felt salvation in nature. I love cities above all.

The great tragedy of life is not that people set their sights too high and fail to achieve their goals but that they set their sights too low and do.

The hand that follows intellect can achieve.