Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh! The bitter wind makes not the victory vain. Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.

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

History has remembered the kings and warriors, because they destroyed; art has remembered the people, because they created.

It has become an article of the creed of modern morality that all labour is good in itself -- a convenient belief to those who live on the labour of others. But as to those on whom they live, I recommend them not to take it on trust, but to look into the matter a little deeper.

No pattern should be without some sort of meaning.

I half wish that I had not been born with a sense of romance and beauty in this accursed age.

And the deeds that ye do upon this earth, it is for fellowship's sake that ye do them.