Man, it is not thy works, which are mortal, infinitely little, and the greatest no greater than the least, but only the spirit thou workest in, that can have worth or continuance.

Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against.

Friend, hast thou considered the "rugged, all-nourishing earth," as Sophocles well names her; how she feeds the sparrow on the housetop, much more her darling man?

No man lives without jostling and being jostled; in all ways he has to elbow himself through the world, giving and receiving offence.

The work an unknown good man has done is like a vein of water flowing hidden underground, secretly making the ground green.

Not one false man but doth uncountable evil.

All work, even cotton-spinning, is noble; work is alone noble.