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.

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

Have nothing in your house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.

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.

If you cannot learn to love real art, at least learn to hate sham art and reject it.

Artists cannot help themselves; they are driven to create by their nature, but for that nature to truly thrive, we need to preserve the precious habitat in which that beauty can flourish.

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