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Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
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Tho' we earn our bread, Tom,
By the dirty pen,
What we can we will be,
Honest Englishmen.
Do the work that's nearest
Though it's dull at whiles,
Helping, when we meet them,
Lame dogs over stiles.
The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one.
The best way to appreciate your job is to imagine yourself without one.
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.
There will be little drudgery in this better ordered world.
Natural power harnessed in machines will be the general read more
There will be little drudgery in this better ordered world.
Natural power harnessed in machines will be the general drudge.
What drudgery is inevitable will be done as a service and duty
for a few years or months out of each life; it will not consume
nor degrade the whole life of anyone.
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.
I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for
hours. I love to keep read more
I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for
hours. I love to keep it by me: the idea of getting rid of it
nearly breaks my heart.
Nothing is work unless you'd rather be doing something else.
Nothing is work unless you'd rather be doing something else.
Why, universal plodding poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long-during action tires
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Why, universal plodding poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long-during action tires
The sinewy vigor of the traveller.
Who first invented work, and bound the free
And holyday-rejoicing spirit down . . .
To that read more
Who first invented work, and bound the free
And holyday-rejoicing spirit down . . .
To that dry drudgery at the desk's dead wood? . . .
Sabbathless Satan!