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.

The greatest foe to art is luxury, art cannot live in its atmosphere.

Love is Enough Love is enough: though the world be a-waning, And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the skies be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over, Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter: The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.

By God! I will not tell you more to-day, Judge any way you will - what matters it?

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

What is an artist but a workman who is determined that, whatever else happens, his work shall be excellent?

When Socialism comes, it may be in such a form that we won't like it.