Apart from the desire to produce beautiful things, the leading passion of my life has been and is hatred of modern civilization.

A good way to rid one's self of a sense of discomfort is to do something. That uneasy, dissatisfied feeling is actual force vibrating out of order; it may be turned to practical account by giving proper expression to its creative character.

Speak but one word to me.

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.

There is no excuse for doing anything which is not strikingly beautiful.

Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant; Life we have loved, through green leaf and through sere, Though still the less we knew of its intent.

My work is the embodiment of dreams in one form or another.