William Morris


English Poet, Artist, Textile Designer, Libertarian Socialist associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood

Author Quotes

Love is Enough Love is enough though the world be a-waning, And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, Though the skies be too dark for dim eyes to discover The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, And this day draw a veil over all deeds passed over, Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.

Nay, spring was o'er-happy and knew not the reason, and summer dreamed sadly, for she thought all was ended in her fulness of wealth that might not be amended; but this is the harvest and the garnering season, and the leaf and the blossom in the ripe fruit are blended.

Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips, think but one thought of me up in the stars.

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

There sat a woman, whose wet tresses rolled on to the floor in waves of gleaming gold, cast back from such a form as, erewhile shown to one poor shepherd, lighted up Troy town.

Wert thou more fickle than the restless sea, still should I love thee, knowing thee for such.

Worthy work carries with it the hope of pleasure in rest, the hope of the pleasure in our using what it makes, and the hope of pleasure in our daily creative skill. All other work but this is worthless; it is slaves' work — mere toiling to live, that we may live to toil.

Alas, alas! another day gone by, another day and no soul come, she said; Another year, and still I am not dead!" And with that word once more her head she raised, and on the trembling man with great eyes gazed.

Come — pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending! Come — fear ye shall have, mid the sky's overcasting! Come — change ye shall have, for far are ye wending! Come — no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting, but the kissed lips of love and fair life everlasting! Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!

Forsooth, he that waketh in hell and feeleth his heart fail him, shall have memory of the merry days of earth, and how that when his heart failed him there, he cried on his fellow, were it his wife or his son or his brother or his gossip or his brother sworn in arms, and how that his fellow heard him and came and they mourned together under the sun, till again they laughed together and were but half sorry between them. This shall he think on in hell, and cry on his fellow to help him, and shall find that therein is no help because there is no fellowship, but every man for himself.

I have said as much as that the aim of art was to destroy the curse of labor by making work the pleasurable satisfaction of our impulse towards energy, and giving to that energy hope of producing something worth its exercise.

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, watching the loophole's spark, Lie I, with life all dark, Feet tethered, hands fettered Fast to the stone, The grim walls, square lettered With prisoned men's groan. Still strain the banner-poles through the wind's song, westward the banner rolls over my wrong.

Love is enough: cherish life that abideth, lest ye die ere ye know him, and curse and misname him; for who knows in what ruin of all hope he hideth, on what wings of the terror of darkness he rideth? And what is the joy of man's life that ye blame him for his bliss grown a sword, and his rest grown a fire?

No man is good enough to be another's master

Protect, detect, react and deter. For example, firewalls are only of any real use if you master them and take action when you notice something wrong.

The heavy trouble, the bewildering care that weighs us down who live and earn our bread, these idle verses have no power to bear; so let em sing of names rememberèd, because they, living not, can ne'er be dead, or long time take their memory quite away from us poor singers of an empty day.

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.

What business have we with art unless we can all share it?

Ye know not how void is your hope and your living: depart with your helping lest yet ye undo me! Ye know not that at nightfall she draweth near to me, there is soft speech between us and words of forgiving till in dead of the midnight her kisses thrill through me. — pass by me and harken, and waken me not!

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

Cricket, following the Ashes success, has proven to be one of the major drivers of inbound tourism in the sports and leisure sector.

Forsooth, ye have heard it said that ye shall do well in this world that in the world to come ye may live happily for ever; do ye well then, and have your reward both on earth and in heaven; for I say to you that earth and heaven are not two but one; and this one is that which ye know, and are each one of you a part of, to wit, the Holy Church, and in each one of you dwelleth the life of the Church, unless ye slay it.

I have the utmost respect for them. It was formed at the time of great violence and danger, particularly for African-American lawyers.

Is money to be gathered? Cut down the pleasant trees among the houses, pull down ancient and venerable buildings for the money that a few square yards of London dirt will fetch; blacken rivers, hide the sun and poison the air with smoke and worse, and it's nobody's business to see to it or mend it.

Love is enough: draw near and behold me ye who pass by the way to your rest and your laughter, and are full of the hope of the dawn coming after; for the strong of the world have bought me and sold me and my house is all wasted from threshold to rafter. — pass by me, and hearken, and think of me not!

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English Poet, Artist, Textile Designer, Libertarian Socialist associated with the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood