Labor is no disgrace.

The most fitting occupation for a civilized man is to do nothing.

A man is not idle, because he is absorbed in thought. There is visible labor and there is an invisible labor.

It is shameful and inhuman to treat men like chattels to make money by, or to regard them merely as so much muscle or physical power.

God sells us all things at the price of labor.

Far and away the best prize that life offers is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.

Toil is man’s allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that’s more than either, the grief and sin of idleness.

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.

You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation.

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

Every man is worth just so much as the things he busies himself with.

All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind.