The Reward Of Labour Is Life. Is

So With This Earthly Paradise It Is, If Ye Will Read Aright, And Pardon Me, Who Strive To Build A Shadowy Isle Of Bliss Midmost The Beating Of The Steely Sea.

Don't Think Too Much Of Style.

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.

The Past Is Not Dead, It Is Living In Us, And Will Be Alive In The Future Which We Are Now Helping To Make.

I Love Art, And I Love History, But It Is Living Art And Living History That I Love. It Is In The Interest Of Living Art And Living History That I Oppose So-called Restoration. What History Can There Be In A Building Bedaubed With Ornament, Which Cannot At The Best Be Anything But A Hopeless And Lifeless Imitation Of The Hope And Vigor Of The Earlier World?