Lord Free Me Of Myself, So I

Souls Will Never Ascend To Heaven Until The Sight Of Beauty Lifts Them There.

Death And Love Are The Two Wings That Bear The Good Man To Heaven.

I Already Have A Wife Who Is Too Much For Me.. She Is My Art, And My Works Are My Children.

The Idea Is There Locked Inside. All You Have To Do Is Remove The Excess Stone.

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.