As You Give Out, So

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.

It Is Well With Me Only When I Have A Chisel In My Hand.

Perchance That I Might Learn What Pity Is, That I Might Laugh At Erring Men No More.

Poets And Painters Have The Power To Dare, I Mean To Dare To Do Whatever They May Approve Of.

Every Block Of Stone Has A Statue Inside It And It Is The Task Of The Sculptor To Discover It.