Every sculpture begins larger than its ending. The chisel chips away one unneeded thing after another, filling the air with dust and the ground with memories of a former wholeness.
Bricks of marble do not worry that they will be diminished, only that the craftsman will be unskilled, or, worse, unimaginative.
If a piece of stone could take the chisel to itself, how much would remain when it stopped cutting itself away? It is likely that the pieces on the floor would add up to a greater mass than the sculpture that would be produced. Any work of art can be judged by its absences.