rest.

If these things were done at the least cost for which they could be
done well and solidly, they ought not to cost much; and they are so
few, that those that could afford to have them at all, could afford
to spend some trouble to get them fitting and beautiful: and all
those who care about art ought to take great trouble to do so, and
to take care that there be no sham art amongst them, nothing that it
has degraded a man to make or sell. And I feel sure, that if all
who care about art were to take this pains, it would make a great
impression upon the public.

This simplicity you may make as costly as you please or can, on the
other hand: you may hang your walls with tapestry instead 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.

All art starts from this simplicity; and the higher the art rises,
the greater the simplicity. I have been speaking of the fittings of
a dwelling-house--a place in which we eat and drink, and pass
familiar hours; but when you come to places which people want to
make more specially beautiful because of the solemnity or dignity of
their uses, they will be simpler still, and have little in them save
the bare walls made as beautiful as may be. St. Mark's at Venice
has very little furniture in it, much less than most Roman Catholic
churches: its lovely and stately mother St. Sophia of
Constantinople had less still, even when it was a Christian church: