The Past Is Not Dead, It Is

If You Cannot Learn To Love Real Art, At Least Learn To Hate Sham Art And Reject It.

It Is The Childlike Part Of Us That Produces Works Of The Imagination. When We Were Children Time Passed So Slow With Us That We Seemed To Have Time For Everything.

Give Me Love And Work - These Two Only.

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!

I Know A Little Garden Close Set Thick With Lily And Red Rose, Where I Would Wander If I Might From Dewy Dawn To Dewy Night. And Have One With Me Wandering.