Beauty Is The Purgation Of Superfluities.

However Rich I May Have Been, I Have Always Lived Like A Poor Man.

If In My Youth I Had Realized That The Sustaining Splendour Of Beauty Of With Which I Was In Love Would One Day Flood Back Into My Heart, There To Ignite A Flame That Would Torture Me Without End, How Gladly Would I Have Put Out The Light In My Eyes.

Dear To Me Is Sleep: Still More, Being Made Of Stone, While Pain And Guilt Still Linger Here Below, Blindness And Numbness--these Please Me Alone; Then Do Not Wake Me, Keep Your Voices Low.

It Is Not Sufficient Merely To Be A Great Master In Painting And Very Wise, But I Think That It Is Necessary For The Painter To Be Very Moral In His Mode Of Life, Or Even, If Such Were Possible, A Saint, So That The Holy Spirit May Inspire His Intellect.

Do You Know That Women Who Are Chaste Remain Much Fresher Than Those Who Are Not?