The Whole Business of Man is The Arts, & All Things Common.

O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors: The north is thine; there hast thou build thy dark, Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs, Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.

Then the Parson might preach, & drink, & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring; And modest dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.

But when he has done this, let him not say that he knows better than his master, for he only holds a candle in sunshine.

Those who enter the gates of heaven are not beings who have no passions or who have curbed the passions, but those who have cultivated an understanding of them.

One Power alone makes a Poet: Imagination. The Divine Vision.

Without Unceasing Practice nothing can be done. Practice is Art. If you leave off you are lost.