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I look on that man as happy, who, when there is a question of success, looks into his work for read more
I look on that man as happy, who, when there is a question of success, looks into his work for a reply.
The Moor has done his work, the Moor may go.
[Ger., Der Mohr hat seine Arbeit gethan, der Mohr read more
The Moor has done his work, the Moor may go.
[Ger., Der Mohr hat seine Arbeit gethan, der Mohr kann gehen.]
I am gradually approaching the period in my life when work comes
first. . . . No longer diverted read more
I am gradually approaching the period in my life when work comes
first. . . . No longer diverted by other emotions, I work the way
a cow grazes.
And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall
blame;
And no one shall work read more
And only the Master shall praise us, and only the Master shall
blame;
And no one shall work for money, and no one shall work for fame;
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separate
star,
Shall draw the Thing as he sees It, for the God of Things as They
Are!
Joy to the Toiler!--him that tills
The fields with Plenty crowned;
Him with the woodman's axe that read more
Joy to the Toiler!--him that tills
The fields with Plenty crowned;
Him with the woodman's axe that thrills
The wilderness profound.
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return
unto the ground; for out of read more
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return
unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou
art, and unto dust shalt thou return.
Nowher so besy a man as he ther was,
And yet he semed bisier than he was.
Nowher so besy a man as he ther was,
And yet he semed bisier than he was.
All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it: the eye is
not satisfied with seeing, nor the read more
All things are full of labour; man cannot utter it: the eye is
not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled hearing.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give read more
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be past,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
- Isaac Watts,