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With hand on the spade and heart in the sky Dress the ground and till it; Turn in the little seed, brown and dry, Turn out the golden millet. Work, and your house shall be duly fed: Work, and rest shall be won; I hold that a man had better be dead Than alive when his work is done.

The rather since every man is the son of his own works.

Earned with the sweat of my brows.

Each natural agent works but to this end,-- To render that it works on like itself.

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be, That may both werken wel and hastily. This wol be done at leisure parfitly.

Nowher so besy a man as he ther was, And yet he semed bisier than he was.

Let us take to our hearts a lesson-- No lesson could braver be-- From the ways of the tapestry weavers On the other side of the sea.

To build may have to be the slow and laborious task of years. To destroy can be the thoughtless act of a single day.

Unraveling the web of Penelope.

All Nature seems at work, slugs leave their lair-- The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing-- And Winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.

Work thou for pleasure--paint or sing or carve The thing thou lovest, though the body starve-- Who works for glory misses oft the goal; Who works for money coins his very soul. Work for the work's sake, then, and it may be That these things shall be added unto thee.

Better to wear out than to rust out.

To find out what one is fitted to do, and to secure an opportunity to do it, is the key to happiness.

The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do, I said, "You get somebody else--or wait till I get through." I don't know how the Lord came out, but He seemed to get along: But I felt kinda sneakin' like, 'cause I know'd I done Him wrong. One day I needed the Lord--Needed Him myself--needed Him right away, And He never answered me at all, but I could hear Him say Down in my accusin' heart, "Nigger, I'se got too much to do, You get somebody else or wait till I get through."

All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy.

'Tis toil's reward, that sweetens industry, As love inspires with strength the enraptur'd thrush.

Too busy with the crowded hour to fear to live or die.

My work is a game, a very serious game.

A woman's work, grave sirs, is never done.

Each one to his own trade; then would the cows be well cared for.