With few words I shall make thee understand my soul.

Dear to me is sleep: still more, being made of stone,
While pain and guilt still linger here below,
Blindness and numbness — these please me alone;
Then do not wake me, keep your voices low.

I am still learning.

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it

Read the heart and not the letter for the pen cannot draw near the good intent.

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Draw, Antonio; draw, Antonio; draw and don’t waste time.

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

Why do You Send Fools To judge My Work?

What spirit is so empty and blind, that it cannot recognize the fact that the foot is more noble than the shoe, and skin more beautiful than the garment with which it is clothed?

O night, O sweetest time, though black of hue,
with peace you force all the restless work to end;
those who exalt you see and understand,
and he is sound of mind who honours you.
You cut the thread of tired thoughts, for so
you offer calm in your moist shade; you send
to this low sphere the dreams where we ascend
up to the highest, where I long to go.
Shadow of death that brings to quiet close
all miseries that plague the heart and soul,
for those in pain the last and best of cures;
you heal the flesh of its infirmities,
dry and our tears and shut away our toil,
and free the good from wrath and fretting cares.

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Patience is eternal genius

No thought is born in me that does not bear the image of death.