God sells us all things at the price of labor.

The three little sentences that will get you through life. Number 1: Cover for me. Number 2: Oh, good idea, Boss! Number 3: It was like that when I got here.

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.

It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.

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

“Work” does not exist in a nonliterate world. The primitive hunter or fisherman did no work, any more than does the poet, painter, or thinker of today. Where the whole man is involved there is no work.

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

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

He that would eat the nut must crack the shell.

Plough deep while sluggards sleep.

All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind.

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.

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