Speak But One Word To Me.

Art Made By The People For The People, As A Joy To The Maker And The User.

The Past Is Not Dead, It Is Living In Us, And Will Be Alive In The Future Which We Are Now Helping To Make.

One Man With An Idea In His Head Is In Danger Of Being Considered A Madman: Two Men With The Same Idea In Common May Be Foolish, But Can Hardly Be Mad; Ten Men Sharing An Idea Begin To Act, A Hundred Draw Attention As Fanatics, A Thousand And Society Begins To Tremble, A Hundred Thousand And There Is War Abroad, And The Cause Has Victories Tangible And Real; And Why Only A Hundred Thousand? Why Not A Hundred Million And Peace Upon The Earth? You And I Who Agree Together, It Is We Who Have To Answer That Question.

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.

What Is An Artist But A Workman Who Is Determined That, Whatever Else Happens, His Work Shall Be Excellent?