A woman's work, grave sirs, is never done.
Chaeun son metier;
Les vaches seront bien gardens.
Each one to his own trade; then would the cows be well cared for.
A ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on his knees.
Handle your tools without mittens.
Plough deep while sluggards sleep.
" Men work together," I told him from the heart,
"Whether they work together or apart."
In every rank, or great or small,
Tis industry supports us all.
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.
So eine Arbeit wird eigentlich nie fertig; man muss sie für fertig erklären, wenn man nach Zeit und Umstand das Möglichste getan hat.
Properly speaking, such work is never finished; one must declare it so when, according to time and circumstances, one has done one's best.
He that well his warke beginneth
The rather a good ende he winneth.
A warke it ys as easie to be done
As tys to saye Jacke! robys on.
Joy to the Toiler!—him that tills
The fields with Plenty crowned;
Him with the woodman's axe that thrills
The wilderness profound.
Haste makes waste.
The "value" or "worth" of a man is, as of all other things, his price; that is to say, so much as would be given for the use of his power.
Light is the task when many share the toil.
The fiction pleased; our generous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.
The work she plyed, but, studious of delay,
Each following night reversed the toils of day.
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."
Facito aliquid operis, ut semper te diabolus inveniat occupatum.
Keep doing some kind of work, that the devil may always find you employed.
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.
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.
For men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep,
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.
But till we are built like angels, with hammer and chisel and pen,
We will work for ourself and a woman, for ever and ever. Amen.
The gull shall whistle in his wake, the blind wave break in fire.
He shall fulfill God's utmost will, unknowing His desire,
And he shall see old planets pass and alien stars arise,
And give the gale his reckless sail in shadow of new skies.
Strong lust of gear shall drive him out and hunger arm his hand,
To wring his food from a desert nude, his foothold from the sand.
