Don't Think Too Much Of Style.

You May Hang Your Walls With Tapestry Insread Of Whitewash Or Paper; Or You May Cover Them With Mosaic; Or Have Them Frescoed By A Great Painter: All This Is Not Luxury, If It Be Done For Beauty's Sake, And Not For Show: It Does Not Break Our Golden Rule: Have Nothing In Your Houses Which You Do Not Know To Be Useful Or Believe To Be Beautiful.

In Prison Wearily, Drearily, Half The Day Long, Flap The Great Banners High Over The Stone; Strangely And Eerily Sounds The Wind's Song, Bending The Banner-poles. While, All Alone, Watching The Loophole's Spark, Lie I, With Life All Dark, Feet Tethered, Hands Fettered Fast To The Stone, The Grim Walls, Square Lettered With Prisoned Men's Groan. Still Strain The Banner-poles Through The Wind's Song, Westward The Banner Rolls Over My Wrong.

It Is The Childlike Part Of Us That Produces Works Of The Imagination. When We Were Children Time Passed So Slow With Us That We Seemed To Have Time For Everything.

Architecture Would Lead Us To All The Arts, As It Did With Earlier Mean: But If We Despise It And Take No Note Of How We Are Housed, The Other Arts Will Have A Hard Time Of It Indeed.

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.