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

Love is enough: though the world be a-waning, And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining.

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

...If our houses, or clothes, our household furniture and utensils are not works of art, they are either wretched makeshifts, or, what is worse, degrading shams of better things.

Forgetfulness of grief I yet may gain;In some wise may come ending to my pain;It may be yet the Gods will have me glad!Yet, Love, I would that thee and pain I had!

The past is not dead, it is living in us, and will be alive in the future which we are now helping to make.

The wind is not helpless for any man's need, Nor falleth the rain but for thistle and weed.