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"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
"Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
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!
Keep doing some kind of work, that the devil may always find you
employed.
[Lat., Facito aliquid operis, read more
Keep doing some kind of work, that the devil may always find you
employed.
[Lat., Facito aliquid operis, ut semper te diabolus inveniat
occupatum.]
Each natural agent works but to this end,--
To render that it works on like itself.
Each natural agent works but to this end,--
To render that it works on like itself.
The rather since every man is the son of his own works.
[Sp., Quanto mas que cada uno es read more
The rather since every man is the son of his own works.
[Sp., Quanto mas que cada uno es hijo de sus obras.]
The best verse hasn't been rhymed yet,
The best house hasn't been planned,
The highest peak hasn't read more
The best verse hasn't been rhymed yet,
The best house hasn't been planned,
The highest peak hasn't been climbed yet,
The mightiest rivers aren't spanned;
Don't worry and fret, faint-hearted,
The chances have just begun
For the best jobs haven't been started,
The best work hasn't been done.
Nothing will work unless you do.
Nothing will work unless you do.
Sometimes our work feels small and insignificant. But remember, a small ripple can gain momentum and build a current so read more
Sometimes our work feels small and insignificant. But remember, a small ripple can gain momentum and build a current so strong that is insurmountable.
When Darby saw the setting sun
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank read more
When Darby saw the setting sun
He swung his scythe, and home he run,
Sat down, drank off his quart and said,
"My work is done, I'll go to bed."
"My work is done!" retorted Joan,
"My work is done! Your constant tone,
But hapless woman ne'er can say
'My work is done' till judgment day."
