The marble index of a mind forever Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone.

A sculptor wields The chisel, and the stricken marble grows To beauty.

I choose a block of marble and chop off whatever I don't need.

The Paphian Queen to Cnidos made repair Across the tide to see her image there: Then looking up and round the prospect wide, When did Praxiteles see me thus? she cried.

Sculpture is more than painting. It is greater To raise the dead to life than to create Phantoms that seem to live.

And the cold marble leapt to life a God.