No Great Work Of Art Is Ever

Read The Heart And Not The Letter For The Pen Cannot Draw Near The Good Intent.

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

It Is Better Decoration When, In Painting, Some Monstrosity Is Introduced For Variety And A Relaxation Of The Senses And To Attract The Attention Of Mortal Eyes, Which At Times Desire To See That Which They Have Never Seen.

No Great Work Of Art Is Ever Finished.

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.