All Nature seems at work, slugs leave their lair--
The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing--
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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.

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.

Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious
stones, wood, hay, stubble;
Every man's work read more

Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious
stones, wood, hay, stubble;
Every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall
declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire
shall try every man's work of what sort it is.

I never did anything by accident, nor did any of my inventions come by accident; they came by work.

I never did anything by accident, nor did any of my inventions come by accident; they came by work.

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three read more

A man's work is nothing but this slow trek to rediscover, through the detours of art, those two or three great and simple images in whose presence his heart first opened.

Work is the meat of life, pleasure the dessert.

Work is the meat of life, pleasure the dessert.

Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth
not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word read more

Study to shew thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth
not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth.

Ther n' is no werkman whatever he be,
That may both werken wel and hastily.
This wol read more

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

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.