The Life Of Labor Does

But Do Your Work, And I Shall Know You. Do Your Work, And You Shall Reinforce Yourself.

The Nobler The Truth Or Sentiment, The Less Imports The Question Of Authorship.

Our Life Seems Not Present, So Much As Prospective; Not For The Affairs On Which It Is Wasted, But As A Hint Of This Vast- Flowingvigor.

The Beautiful Laws Of Time And Space, Once Dislocated By Our Inaptitude, Are Holes And Dens. If The Hive Be Disturbed By Rash And Stupid Hands, Instead Of Honey, It Will Yield Us Bees.

The Reason Of Idleness And Of Crime Is The Deferring Of Our Hopes. Whilst We Are Waiting, We Beguile The Time With Jokes, With Sleep, With Eating, And With Crimes.