I like work; it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.

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

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

Labor is no disgrace.

Sick, irritated, and the prey to a thousand discomforts, I go on with my labor like a true workingman, who, with sleeves rolled up, in the sweat of his brow, beats away at his anvil, not caring whether it rains or blows, hails or thunders.

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.

God sells us all things at the price of labor.