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.

So now, from this mad passion Which made me take art for an idol and a king I have learnt the burden of error that it bore And what misfortune springs from man's desire... The world's frivolities have robbed me of the time That I was given for reflecting upon God.

The greatest risk to man is not that he aims to high and misses, but that he aims to low and hits.

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

The greatest artist has no conception which a single block of white marble does not potentially contain within its mass, but only a hand obedient to the mind can penetrate to this image.

The sculpture is already complete within the marble block, before I start my work. It is already there, I just have to chisel away the superfluous material.

If I love in thee, beloved, only what thou lovest most, do not be angry; for so one spirit is enamoured of another.