Art is the expression of man's joy in his work, and all
the joy and love that you can weave into a fabric comes out again and
belongs to the individual who has the soul to appreciate it. Art is
beauty; and beauty is a gratification, a peace and a solace to every
normal man and woman. Beautiful sounds, beautiful colors, beautiful
proportions, beautiful thoughts--how our souls hunger for them! Matter is
only mind in an opaque condition; and all beauty is but a symbol of
spirit. You can not get joy from feeding things all day into a machine.
You must let the man work with hand and brain, and then out of the joy of
this marriage of hand and brain, beauty will be born. It tells of a
desire for harmony, peace, beauty, wholeness--holiness.

Art is the expression of man's joy in his work.

When you read a beautiful poem that makes your heart throb with gladness
and gratitude, you are simply partaking of the emotion that the author
felt when he wrote it. To possess a piece of work that the workman made
in joyous animation is a source of joy to the possessor.

And this love of the work done by the marriage of hand and brain can
never quite go out of fashion--for we are men and women, and our hopes
and aims and final destiny are at last one. Where one enjoys, all enjoy;
where one suffers, all suffer.

Say what you will of the coldness and selfishness of men, at the last we
long for companionship and the fellowship of our kind. We are lost
children, and when alone and the darkness gathers, we long for the close
relationship of the brothers and sisters we knew in our childhood, and
cry for the gentle arms that once rocked us to sleep. Men are homesick