I Am Always Learning.

There Is No Tongue To Speak His Eulogy; Too Brightly Burned His Splendour For Our Eyes: Far Easier To Condemn His Injurers, Than For The Tongue To Reach His Smallest Worth. He To The Realms Of Sinfulness Came Down, To Teach Mankind; Ascending Then To God, Heaven Unbarred To Him Her Lofty Gates, To Whom His Country Hers Refused To Ope. Ungrateful Land, To Its Own Injury Nurse Of His Fate! Well Too Does This Instruct, That Greatest Ills Fall To The Perfectest. And 'midst A Thousand Proofs, Let This Suffice, That, As His Exile Had No Parallel, So Never Was There Man More Great Than He.

Love Is A Beautiful Image Imagined Or Seen Within The Heart, The Friend Of Virtue And Gentility.

Good Painting Is Nothing Else But A Copy Of The Perfections Of God And A Reminder Of His Painting. Finally, Good Painting Is A Music And A Melody Which Intellect Only Can Appreciate, And With Great Difficulty.

If There Is Some Good In Me, It Is Because I Was Born In The Subtle Atmosphere Of Your Country Of Arezzo. Along With The Milk Of My Nurse I Received The Knack Of Handling Chisel And Hammer, With Which I Make My Figures.

A Good Artist Ought Never To Allow Impatience To Overcome His Sense Of The Main End Of Art - Perfection