That Talk Of Inspiration Is Sheer Nonsense;

Beauty, Which Is What Is Meant By Art, Using The Word In Its Widest Sense, Is, I Contend, No Mere Accident To Human Life, Which People Can Take Or Leave As They Choose, But A Positive Necessity Of Life.

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.

Simplicity Of Life, Even The Barest, Is Not A Misery, But The Very Foundation Of Refinement.

Love Is Enough: Though The World Be A-waning, And The Woods Have No Voice But The Voice Of Complaining.

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.