So long as the system of competition in the production and exchange of the means of life goes on, the degradation of the arts will go on; and if that system is to last for ever, then art is doomed, and will surely die; that is to say, civilization will die.

The reward of labour is life. Is that not enough?

If a chap can't compose an epic poem while he's weaving tapestry, he had better shut up, he'll never do any good at all.

It is for him that is lonely or in prison to dream of fellowship, but for him that is of a fellowship to do and not to dream.

You may hang your walls with tapestry insread of whitewash or paper; or you may cover them with mosaic; or have them frescoed by a great painter: all this is not luxury, if it be done for beauty's sake, and not for show: it does not break our golden rule: Have nothing in your houses which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

That talk of inspiration is sheer nonsense; there is no such thing. It is a mere matter of craftsmanship.

Free men must live simple lives and have simple pleasures.