I live and love in God's peculiar light.

The power of one fair face makes my love sublime, for it has weaned my heart from low desires.

His hope is treacherous only whose love dies with beauty, which is varying every hour, bit, in chaste hearts uninfluenced by the power of outward change, there blooms a deathless flower, that breathes on earth the air of paradise.

Already at 16, my mind was a battlefield: my love of pagan beauty, the male nude, at war with my religious faith. A polarity of themes and forms - one spiritual, the other earthly.

I have never felt salvation in nature. I love cities above all.

The greater danger for most of us is not that our aim is too high and we miss it, but that it is too low and we reach it.