Forsooth, he that waketh in hell and feeleth his heart fail him, shall have memory of the merry days of earth, and how that when his heart failed him there, he cried on his fellow, were it his wife or his son or his brother or his gossip or his brother sworn in arms, and how that his fellow heard him and came and they mourned together under the sun, till again they laughed together and were but half sorry between them. This shall he think on in hell, and cry on his fellow to help him, and shall find that therein is no help because there is no fellowship, but every man for himself.
British textile artist, author, and socialist (1834-1896)
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Love is enough: ho ye who seek saving, Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it, And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving; These know the Cup with the roses around it; These know the World's Wound and the balm that hath bound it: Cry out, the World heedeth not, "Love, lead us home!"
Quando infine saremo sollevati da tutto ciò, nel contesto di una rinnovata semplicità di vita, avremo tempo per pensare al nostro lavoro, questo fedele compagno quotidiano, che nessuno si azzarderà più a definire una maledizione, perché certamente allora ne saremo felici, ognuno al suo posto, senz'alcuna invidia reciproca; e nessuno sarà costretto a essere il servo di un altro uomo, mentre ciascuno rifiuterà con sdegno di essere il padrone di un altro. E a quel punto gli uomini saranno senz'altro felici nel loro lavoro, e quella felicità promuoverà per certo un'arte decorativa nobile e popolare. Quell'arte renderà le nostre strade belle come i boschi, tali da suscitare, come la vista delle montagne, un sentimento di elevazione; sarà un piacere, e un ristoro per lo spirito, non un peso, giungere in città dall'aperta campagna; l'abitazione di ogni uomo sarà bela e dignitosa, tale da rasserenarne l'animo e assisterlo nel suo lavoro. Tutte le opere umane in mezzo alle quali viviamo e che maneggiamo saranno in armonia con la natura, sensate e belle, e tuttavia sempre semplici e stimolanti, non puerili né tali da infiacchirci; perché come dai nostri edifici pubblici non mancherà alcuna bellezza o splendore che rientri nelle capacità della mente e della mano dell'uomo, così nelle abitazioni private non vi sarà alcun segno di spreco, di pompa o di arroganza, e ognuno godrà della sua parte del meglio.
I too Will go, remembering what I said to you, When any land, the first to which we came Seemed that we sought, and set your hearts aflame, And all seemed won to you: but still I think, Perchance years hence, the fount of life to drink, Unless by some ill chance I first am slain. But boundless risk must pay for boundless gain.
And there he saw a door within the wall, Well-hinged, close shut; nor was there in that place Another on its hinges, therefore he Stood there and pondered for a little space And thought: "Perchance some marvel I shall see, For surely here some dweller there must be, Because this door seems whole and new and sound, While nought but ruin I can see around".
But taking note of these things, at the last The mariner beneath the gateway passed. And there a lovely cloistered court he found, A fountain in the mist o'erthrown and dry, And in the cloister briers twining round The slender shafts; the wondrous imagery Outworn by more than many years gone by; Because the country people, in their fear Of wizardry, had wrought destruction here, And piteously these fair things had been maimed; There stood great Jove, lacking his head of might; Here was the archer, swift Apollo, lamed; The shapely limbs of Venus hid from sight By weeds and shards; Diana's ankles light Bound with the cable of some coasting ship; And rusty nails through Helen's maddening lip.
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A terrible tyranny our Communism, is it not? Folk used often to be warned against this very unhappiness in times past, when for every well-fed, contented person you saw a thousand miserable starvelings. Whereas for us, we grow fat and well-liking on the tyranny; a tyranny, to say the truth, not to be made visible by any microscope I know. Don't be afraid, my friend; we are not going to seek for troubles by calling our peace and plenty and happiness by ill names whose very meaning we have forgotten!
What shall I say concerning its mastery of and its waste of mechanical power, its commonwealth so poor, its enemies of the commonwealth so rich, its stupendous organization — for the misery of life! Its contempt of simple pleasures which everyone could enjoy but for its folly? Its eyeless vulgarity which has destroyed art, the one certain solace of labour? All this I felt then as now, but I did not know why it was so. The hope of the past times was gone, the struggles of mankind for many ages had produced nothing but this sordid, aimless, ugly confusion.
Folk say, a wizard to a northern king At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show, That through one window men beheld the spring, And through another saw the summer glow, And through a third the fruited vines a-row, While still, unheard, but in its wonted way, Piped the drear wind of that December day. 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, Where tossed about all hearts of men must be; Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay, Not the poor singer of an empty day.