Honest labor bears a lovely face.

And yet without labour there were no ease, no rest, so much as conceivable.

Even in the meanest sorts of labor, the whole soul of a man is composed into a kind of real harmony the instant he sets himself to work.

With fingers weary and worn, With eyelids heavy and red, A woman sat in unwomanly rags, Plying her needle and thread.

It is so far from being needless pains, that it may bring considerable profit, to carry Charcoals to Newcastle.

There are two kinds of people, those who do the work and those who take the credit. Try to be in the first group; there is less competition there.