Perchance that I might learn what pity is, That I might laugh at erring men no more.
Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven.
The greatest risk to man is not that he aims to high and misses, but that he aims to low and hits.
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.
Read the heart and not the letter for the pen cannot draw near the good intent.
No one has mastery, Before he is at the end, Of his art and his life.