those strange forms invented, which men have so long delighted in:
forms and intricacies that do not necessarily imitate nature, but in
which the hand of the craftsman is guided to work in the way that
she does, till the web, the cup, or the knife, look as natural, nay
as lovely, as the green field, the river bank, or the mountain
flint.

To give people pleasure in the things they must perforce USE, that
is one great office of decoration; to give people pleasure in the
things they must perforce MAKE, that is the other use of it.

Does not our subject look important enough now? I say that without
these arts, our rest would be vacant and uninteresting, our labour
mere endurance, mere wearing away of body and mind.

As for that last use of these arts, the giving us pleasure in our
work, I scarcely know how to speak strongly enough of it; and yet if
I did not know the value of repeating a truth again and again, I
should have to excuse myself to you for saying any more about this,
when I remember how a great man now living has spoken of it: I mean
my friend Professor John Ruskin: if you read the chapter in the 2nd
vol. of his Stones of Venice entitled, 'On the Nature of Gothic, and
the Office of the Workman therein,' you will read at once the truest
and the most eloquent words that can possibly be said on the
subject. What I have to say upon it can scarcely be more than an
echo of his words, yet I repeat there is some use in reiterating a
truth, lest it be forgotten; so I will say this much further: we
all know what people have said about the curse of labour, and what
heavy and grievous nonsense are the more part of their words
thereupon; whereas indeed the real curses of craftsmen have been the