“Lord, grant that I may always desire more than I can accomplish.”

“No thought is born in me that does not bear the image of death.”

“As when, O lady mine,With chiselled touchThe stone unhewn and coldBecomes a living mould,The more the marble wastes,The more the statue grows.”

“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.”