There Is No Music In A “rest”

It Is A Matter Of The Simplest Demonstration, That No Man Can Be Really Appreciated But By His Equal Or Superior.

To Banish Imperfection Is To Destroy Expression, To Check Exertion, To Paralyze Vitality.

There Is Material Enough In A Single Flower For The Ornament Of A Score Of Cathedrals.

And Besides; The Problem Of Land, At Its Worst, Is A Bye One; Distribute The Earth As You Will, The Principal Question Remains Inexorable, Who Is To Dig It? Which Of Us, In Brief Word, Is To Do The Hard And Dirty Work For The Rest, And For What Pay?

Dream Lofty Dreams, And As You Dream, So Shall You Become.