I Criticise By Creation, Not By Finding

The More The Marble Wastes, The More The Statue Grows.

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

Many Believe - And I Believe - That I Have Been Designated For This Work By God. In Spite Of My Old Age, I Do Not Want To Give It Up; I Work Out Of Love For God And I Put All My Hope In Him.

There Is An Angel Imprisoned In It And I Must Set It Free.

There Is No Tongue To Speak His Eulogy; Too Brightly Burned His Splendour For Our Eyes: Far Easier To Condemn His Injurers, Than For The Tongue To Reach His Smallest Worth. He To The Realms Of Sinfulness Came Down, To Teach Mankind; Ascending Then To God, Heaven Unbarred To Him Her Lofty Gates, To Whom His Country Hers Refused To Ope. Ungrateful Land, To Its Own Injury Nurse Of His Fate! Well Too Does This Instruct, That Greatest Ills Fall To The Perfectest. And 'midst A Thousand Proofs, Let This Suffice, That, As His Exile Had No Parallel, So Never Was There Man More Great Than He.