"I suppose I have a really loose interpretation of 'work,' because I think that just being alive is so much work at something you don't always want to do. The machinery is always going. Even when you sleep."-Andy Warhol

Elbert Hubbard on Ida Straus, passanger of the Titanic, who chose to stay with her husband on board instead of taking her place in the all-female life boat:

"Mr. and Mrs. Straus, I envy you that legacy of love and loyalty left to your children and grandchildren. The calm courage that was yours all your long and useful career was your possession in death. You knew how to do three great things—you knew how to live, how to love and how to die. One thing is sure, there are just two respectable ways to die. One is of old age, and the other is by accident. All disease is indecent. Suicide is atrocious. But to pass out as did Mr. and Mrs. Isador Straus is glorious. Few have such a privilege. Happy lovers, both. In life they were never separated and in death they are not divided."

Straus allegedly stated: "Not I—I will not leave my husband. All these years we've traveled together, and shall we part now? No, our fate is one."

It's and interesting perspective, especially his statement that "All disease is indecent."

John Ruskin on the impossibility of replicating the work of the old masters:

"This is grievous, you think, and hopeless. No, it is delightful and full of hope: delightful, to see what marvellous things can be done by men; and full of hope, if your hope is the right one, of being one day able to rejoice more in what others are, than in what you are yourself, and more in the strength that is for ever above you, than in that you can ever attain".

--From Lectures on Art Delivered at Oxford, by John Ruskin

W.A. Dwiggins was a type designer and graphic communications designer during the early 1900s. He also made puppets and started two puppet theatres, staging shows with 12 inch marionettes.

This is his flickr pool, and I think it shows the variety of his interests and pursuits.

http://www.flickr.com/groups/wadwiggins/pool/show

Harold Monro was a british poet and publisher (1879 - 1932).

This is a poem of his that is included in The Collected Poems of Harold Monro, as published by T.J. Cobden Sanderson - 

Seed-Time Outside Eden

he

Now, while I scatter seed, you wait,

and scare the birds, beside that gate.

The task is hard I have to do:

It is an easy one for you

There in the shade to sit and sing,

and keep those large flocks on the wing.

she

Why are you always busy now?

The grain, the harvest, or the plough

Take all the spirit from your kiss.

Leave sowing. Your glad love I miss.

Or if my singing has become

A cry to scare the birds, I'm dumb.

Do as you must. I will not stay

To help you. I will sleep to-day.

he

Ah! you don't mind about the grain:

So my whole work may be in vain.

I know my duty, and will do

All that I can, in spite of you.

The seed is burning in my hand,

And lusting for the fertile land.

She

Come and lie underneath this tree,

And plant your human seed in me.

Make in my fertile body first

The crop for which my senses thirst.

He

I come to you because you call,

And to your passionate world I fall.

But the whole time we satiate

Our flesh, I fear the after-hate.

She

Fear nothing. Pass your hands along

My body. Hold me. You are strong.

Cast that unfeeling bag of seed

Away. Now satisfy our need.

I hate the interfering wheat.

Oh, there will be enough to eat.