Labor disgraces no man; unfortunately, you occasionally find men who disgrace labor.

He that would eat the nut must crack the shell.

Man is so made that he can only find relaxation from one kind of labor by taking up another.

Hang work! I wish that all the year were holiday; I am sure that Indolence—indefeasible Indolence—is the true state of man.

All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind.

The workers are the saviors of society, the redeemers of the race.

The best augury of a man’s success in his profession is that he thinks it the finest in the world.

Labor is no disgrace.

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

Man is a tool-using animal. Nowhere do you find him without tools; without tools he is nothing, with tools he is all.

I hate the present modes of living and getting a living. Farming and shopkeeping and working at a trade or profession are all odious to me. I should relish getting my living in a simple, primitive fashion.

Eight hours for work, eight hours for sleep, eight hours for what we will.

I began to realize how simple life could be if one had a regular routine to follow with fixed hours, a fixed salary, and very little original thinking to do.