They merit more praise who know how to suffer misery than those who temper themselves in contentment.

With a goose-quill and a few sheets of paper, I mock myself of the universe. They say I am the son of a courtesan; it may be so, but I have the heart of a King. I live free, I enjoy myself, I can call myself happy.

Perugia is my true fatherland because there I grew to manhood.

What evil is there in seeing a man possess a woman? Why, the beasts would be more free than we!

Why should the eyes be denied what delights them most?

I am a free man. I do not need to copy Petrarca or Boccaccio. My own genius is enough. Let others worry themselves about style, and so cease to be themselves. Without a master, without a model, without a guide, I go to work and earn my living, my well-being and my fame.