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No man is born into the world whose work
Is not born with him: there is always work,
read more
No man is born into the world whose work
Is not born with him: there is always work,
And tools to work withal, for those who will;
And blessed are the horny hand of toil!
Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!
Our life is frittered away by detail. Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!
The Lord had a job for me, but I had so much to do,
I said, "You get somebody read more
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."
Study until twenty-five, investigation until forty, profession
until sixty, at which age I would have him retired on a read more
Study until twenty-five, investigation until forty, profession
until sixty, at which age I would have him retired on a double
allowance.
How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting read more
How many a rustic Milton has passed by,
Stifling the speechless longings of his heart,
In unremitting drudgery and care!
How many a vulgar Cato has compelled
His energies, no longer tameless then,
To mould a pin, or fabricate a nail!
Ease and speed in doing a thing do not give the work lasting
solidity or exactness of beauty.
Ease and speed in doing a thing do not give the work lasting
solidity or exactness of beauty.
By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out read more
By the way,
The works of women are symbolical.
We sew, sew, prick our fingers, dull out sight,
Producing what? A pair of slippers, sir,
To put on when you're weary--or a stool
To tumble over and vex you . . . curse that stool!
Or else at best, a cushion where you lean
And sleep, and dream of something we are not,
But would be for your sake. Alas, alas!
This hurts most, this . . . that, after all, we are paid
The worth of our work, perhaps.
The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent.
The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent.
