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

Not on one strand are all life's jewels strung.

Simplicity of life, even the barest, is not a misery, but the very foundation of refinement; a sanded floor and whitewashed walls and the green trees, and flowery meads, and living waters outside; or a grimy palace amid the same with a regiment of housemaids always working to smear the dirt together so that it may be unnoticed; which, think you, is the most refined, the most fit for a gentleman of those two dwellings?

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

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

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.

Earth, left silent by the wind of night,Seems shrunken 'neath the gray unmeasured height.