Trifles Make Perfection, And Perfection

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.

Lord, Make Me See Thy Glory In Every Place.

It Is Necessary To Keep One's Compass In One's Eyes And Not In The Hand, For The Hands Execute, But The Eye Judges.

The Power Of One Fair Face Makes My Love Sublime, For It Has Weaned My Heart From Low Desires.

If It Be True That Any Beautiful Thing Raises The Pure And Just Desire Of Man From Earth To God, The Eternal Fount Of All, Such I Believe My Love.