Even if you are divine, you don't disdain male consorts.
Beauty is the purgation of superfluities.
A man paints with his brains and not with his hands.
As when, O lady mine, With chiselled touch, The stone unhewn and cold, Becomes a living mould, The more the marble wastes, The more the statue grows.
The idea is there locked inside. All you have to do is remove the excess stone.
If I love in thee, beloved, only what thou lovest most, do not be angry; for so one spirit is enamoured of another.