If a chap can't compose an epic poem while he's weaving tapestry, he had better shut up, he'll never do any good at all. - William Morris

Love is enough: it grew up without heeding In the days when ye knew not its name nor its measure, And its leaflets untrodden by the light feet of pleasure Had no boast of the blossom, no sign of the seeding, As the morning and evening passed over its treasure.

It is for him that is lonely or in prison to dream of fellowship, but for him that is of a fellowship to do and not to dream.

Apart from the desire to produce beautiful things, the leading passion of my life has been and is hatred of modern civilization.