When Socialism Comes, It May Be In

Simplicity Of Life, Even The Barest, Is Not A Misery, But The Very Foundation Of Refinement; A Sanded Floor And Whitewashed Walls And The Green Trees, And Flowery Meads, And Living Waters Outside; Or A Grimy Palace Amid The Same With A Regiment Of Housemaids Always Working To Smear The Dirt Together So That It May Be Unnoticed; Which, Think You, Is The Most Refined, The Most Fit For A Gentleman Of Those Two Dwellings?

And The Deeds That Ye Do Upon This Earth, It Is For Fellowship's Sake That Ye Do Them.

Apart From The Desire To Produce Beautiful Things, The Leading Passion Of My Life Has Been And Is Hatred Of Modern Civilization.

No Man Is Good Enough To Be Another's Master.

The Greatest Foe To Art Is Luxury, Art Cannot Live In Its Atmosphere.