The More The Marble Wastes,

And Who Is So Barbarous As Not To Understand That The Foot Of A Man Is Nobler Than His Shoe, And His Skin Nobler Than That Of The Sheep With Which He Is Clothed.

I Give My Soul To God, My Body To The Earth, And My Worldly Possessions To My Nearest Of Kin, Charging Them To Remember The Sufferings Of Jesus Christ.

In My Opinion Painting Should Be Considered Excellent In Proportion As It Approaches The Effect Of Relief, While Relief Should Be Considered Bad In Proportion As It Approaches The Effect Of Painting.

The Greatest Artist Has No Conception Which A Single Block Of White Marble Does Not Potentially Contain Within Its Mass, But Only A Hand Obedient To The Mind Can Penetrate To This Image.

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.