I Feast On Wine And Bread, And

Good Painting Is The Kind That Looks Like Sculpture.

After Four Tortured Years, More Than 400 Over Life-sized Figures, I Felt As Old And As Weary As Jeremiah. I Was Only 37, Yet Friends Did Not Recognize The Old Man I Had Become.

Lord, Grant That I May Always Desire More Than I Can Accomplish.

My Beard Towards Heaven, I Feel My Nape Support / The Back Of My Head, I Grow The Breast Of A Harpy / And My Brush As It Drips Continually / Upon My Face, Makes It A Gorgeous Floor.

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.