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The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest in all the details of daily life.
William Morris
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William Morris
Age: 62 †
Born: 1834
Born: March 24
Died: 1896
Died: October 3
Wilcumestowe
William M. Morris
Interest
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More quotes by William Morris
Slayer of the winter, art thou here again? O welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh! The bitter wind makes not the victory vain. Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.
William Morris
Beauty, which is what is meant by art, using the word in its widest sense, is, I contend, no mere accident to human life, which people can take or leave as they choose, but a positive necessity of life.
William Morris
Architecture would lead us to all the arts, as it did with earlier mean: but if we despise it and take no note of how we are housed, the other arts will have a hard time of it indeed.
William Morris
By God! I will not tell you more to-day, Judge any way you will - what matters it?
William Morris
Forgetfulness of grief I yet may gainIn some wise may come ending to my painIt may be yet the Gods will have me glad!Yet, Love, I would that thee and pain I had!
William Morris
You may hang your walls with tapestry insread of whitewash or paper or you may cover them with mosaic or have them frescoed by a great painter: all this is not luxury, if it be done for beauty's sake, and not for show: it does not break our golden rule: Have nothing in your houses which you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.
William Morris
If there is a reason for keeping the wall very quiet, choose a pattern that works all over without pronounced lines...Put very succinctly, architectural effect depends upon a nice balance of horizontal, vertical and oblique. No rules can say how much of each so nothing can really take the place of feeling and good judgement.
William Morris
A good way to rid one's self of a sense of discomfort is to do something. That uneasy, dissatisfied feeling is actual force vibrating out of order it may be turned to practical account by giving proper expression to its creative character.
William Morris
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.
William Morris
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.
William Morris
The greatest foe to art is luxury, art cannot live in its atmosphere.
William Morris
I have said as much as that the aim of art was to destroy the curse of labour by making work the pleasurable satisfaction of our impulse towards energy, and giving to that energy hope of producing something worth its exercise.
William Morris
Ornamental pattern work, to be raised above the contempt of reasonable men, must possess three qualities: beauty, imagination and order.
William Morris
That talk of inspiration is sheer nonsense there is no such thing. It is a mere matter of craftsmanship.
William Morris
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.
William Morris
If we feel the least degradation in being amorous, or merry or hungry, or sleepy, we are so far bad animals & miserable men.
William Morris
The past is not dead, it is living in us, and will be alive in the future which we are now helping to make.
William Morris
Yea, I have looked, and seen November there The changeless seal of change it seemed to be, Fair death of things that, living once, were fair Bright sign of loneliness too great for me, Strange image of the dread eternity, In whose void patience how can these have part, These outstretched feverish hands, this restless heart?
William Morris
Speak not, move not, but listen, the sky is full of gold. No ripple on the river, no stir in field or fold, All gleams but naught doth glisten, but the far-off unseen sea. Forget days past, heart broken, put all memory by! No grief on the green hillside, no pity in the sky, Joy that may not be spoken fills mead and flower and tree.
William Morris
A world made to be lost, - A bitter life 'twixt pain and nothing tost.
William Morris