William Morris Quotes

The greatest foe to art is luxury, art cannot live in its atmosphere.

All rooms ought to look as if they were lived in, and to have so to say, a friendly welcome ready for the incomer.

Elaboration is not beauty, and sand-paper never finished a piece of bad work.

The heart desires, the hand refrains. The Godhead fires, the soul attains.

The reward of labour is life. Is that not enough?

When Socialism comes, it may be in such a form that we won't like it.

A world made to be lost, - A bitter life 'twixt pain and nothing tost.

If you cannot learn to love real art, at least learn to hate sham art and reject it.

Love is enough: though the world be a-waning, And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining.

What is nobler than a man wresting and wringing his bread from the stubborn soil by the sweat of his brow and the break of his back for his wife and children!

Inspiration is nothing without work.

I don't like persuaded sitters. I never could paint a cat if the cat had any scruples, religious, superstitious, or otherwise, about sitting.

It's impossible to make a picture without values. Values are the basis. If they are not, tell me what is the basis.

There's lots of fun in this world, after all. And if there isn't, there is in the next. And we're going there, sure.

Nature is economical. She puts her lights and darks only where she needs them.

How are things visible? Can you see an egg against a white background? Not by drawing a line around it can you make it evident.

When an artist leaves his work to amuse people, he loses his time and their respect. If people are to be amused by artists, it must be by employing them in their legitimate occupation.

From out the throng and stress of lies, From out the painful noise of sighs, One voice of comfort seems to rise: "It is the meaner part that dies."

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.

By God! I will not tell you more to-day, Judge any way you will - what matters it?

To happy folkAll heaviest words no more of meaning bearThan far-off bells saddening the Summer air.

Earth, left silent by the wind of night,Seems shrunken 'neath the gray unmeasured height.

Forgetfulness of grief I yet may gain;In some wise may come ending to my pain;It may be yet the Gods will have me glad!Yet, Love, I would that thee and pain I had!

Death have we hated, knowing not what it meant; Life we have loved, through green leaf and through sere, Though still the less we knew of its intent.

There was a knight came riding by In early spring, when the roads were dry; And he heard that lady sing at the noon, Two red roses across the moon.

Speak but one word to me.

How can you care about the image of a landscape, when you show by your deeds that you don't care for the landscape itself?

Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.

O thrush your song is passing sweet But never a song that you have sung Is half so sweet as thrushes sang When my dear love and I were young.

Let tomorrow cross its own rivers.

The books I would like to print are the books I love to read and keep.