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(1834 - 1896 / England)

Quotations

  • ''I pondered all these things, and how men fight and lose the battle, and the thing that they fought for comes about in spite of their defeat, and when it comes turns out not to be what they meant, and other men have to fight for what they meant under another name.''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British artist, writer, printer. A Dream of John Ball, ch. 4 (1888).
    29 person liked.
    9 person did not like.
  • ''So long as the system of competition in the production and exchange of the means of life goes on, the degradation of the arts will go on; and if that system is to last for ever, then art is doomed, and will surely die; that is to say, civilization will die.''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British artist, writer, printer. Art Under Plutocracy (1883).
  • ''The reward of labour is life. Is that not enough?''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British artist, writer, printer. Hammond, in News From Nowhere, ch. 15 (1891).
  • ''The wind's on the wold
    And the night is a-cold,
    And Thames runs chill
    'Twixt mead and hill.
    But kind and dear
    Is the old house here
    And my heart is warm
    Midst winter's harm.''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British poet. Inscription for an Old Bed (l. 1-8). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
    Think but one thought of me up in the stars.''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British poet. Summer Dawn (l. 1-2). . . New Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1950. Helen Gardner, ed. (1972) Oxford University Press.
  • ''So I say, if you cannot learn to love real art; at least learn to hate sham art and reject it. It is not because the wretched thing is so ugly and silly and useless that I ask you to cast it from you; it is much more because these are but the outward symbols of the poison that lies within them; look through them and see all that has gone to their fashioning, and you will see how vain labour, and sorrow, and disgrace have been their companions from the first—and all this for trifles that no man really needs!''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British artist, writer, printer. "The Decorative Arts: Their Relation to Modern Life and Progress," published as "The Lesser Arts," in Hopes and Fears for Art (1882). Morris's first public lecture.
  • ''If you want a golden rule that will fit everything, this is it: Have nothing in your houses that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British artist, writer, printer. Lecture, 1877. "The Decorative Arts: Their Relation to Modern Life and Progress," publ. As "The Lesser Arts" in Hopes and Fears for Art (1882). Morris's first public lecture.
  • ''Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time,
    Why should I strive to set the crooked straight?
    Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme
    Beats with light wing against the ivory gate,''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British poet. The Earthly Paradise (l. 22-25). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Of Heaven of Hell I have no power to sing,
    I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
    Or make quick-coming death a little thing,
    Or bring again the pleasure of past years,''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British poet. The Earthly Paradise (l. 1-4). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.
  • ''Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,
    Or hope again for aught that I can say,
    The idle singer of an empty day.''
    William Morris (1834-1896), British poet. The Earthly Paradise (l. 5-7). . . Oxford Book of Nineteenth-Century English Verse, The. John Hayward, ed. (1964; reprinted, with corrections, 1965) Oxford University Press.

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In Prison

Wearily, drearily,
Half the day long,
Flap the great banners
High over the stone;
Strangely and eerily
Sounds the wind's song,
Bending the banner-poles.

While, all alone,

[Hata Bildir]