Let Whoever May Have Attained

A Man Paints With His Brains And Not With His Hands.

Read The Heart And Not The Letter For The Pen Cannot Draw Near The Good Intent.

The Idea Is There Locked Inside. All You Have To Do Is Remove The Excess Stone.

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.

I Am A Poor Man And Of Little Worth, Who Is Laboring In That Art That God Has Given Me In Order To Extend My Life As Long As Possible.