Lorenzo De' Medici Seeks Highly

Why Do You Send Fools To Judge My Work?

A Great Sculpture Can Roll Down A Hill Without Breaking.

Led By Long Years To My Last Hours, Too Late, O World, I Know Your Joys For What They Are. You Promise A Peace Which Is Not Yours To Give And The Repose That Dies Before It Is Born. The Years Of Fear And Shame To Which Heaven Now Set A Term, Renew Nothing In Me But The Old Sweet Error In Which, Living Overlong A Man Kills His Soul With No Gain To His Body. I Say And I Know Having Put It To The Proof, That He Has The Better Part In Heaven Whose Death Falls Nearest His Birth.

My Soul Can Find No Staircase To Heaven Unless It Be Through Earth's Loveliness.

He Who Follows Another Will Never Overtake Him