Now let us go, love, down the winding stair, With fingers intertwined... - William Morris

I think that to all living things there is a pleasure in the exercise of their energies, and that even beasts rejoice in being lithe and swift and strong. But a man at work, making something which he feels will exist because he is working at it and wills it, is exercising the energies of his mind and soul as well as of his body. Memory and imagination help him as he works. Not only his own thoughts, but the thoughts of the men of past ages guide his hands; and, as a part of the human race, he creates. If we work thus we shall be men, and our days will be happy and eventful.

Let some word reach my ears and touch my heart,

A queen I was, what Gods I knew I loved, And nothing evil was there in my thought, And yet by love my wretched heart was moved Until to utter ruin I was brought! Alas! thou sayest our gods were vain and nought, Wait, wait, till thou hast heard this tale of mine, Then shalt thou think them devilish or divine.