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The Most Unhappy Of All Men Is The Man Who Cannot Tell What He Is Going To Do, Who Has Got No Work Cut-out For Him In The World, And Does Not Go Into It. For Work Is The Grand Cure Of All The Maladies And Miseries That Ever Beset Mankind,honest Work, Which You Intend Getting Done.

-Thomas Carlyle

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The Most Unhappy Of

Thomas Carlyle

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The Most Unhappy Of All Men Is The Man Who Cannot Tell What He Is Going To Do, Who Has Got No Work Cut-out For Him In The World, And Does Not Go Into It. For Work Is The Grand Cure Of All The Maladies And Miseries That Ever Beset Mankind,honest Work, Which You Intend Getting Done.

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A Man Perfects Himself By Working.

And Man's Little Life Has Duties That Are Great, That Are Alone Great, And Go Up To Heaven And Down To Hell.

They Wrong Man Greatly Who Say He Is To Be Seduced By Ease. Difficulty, Abnegation, Martyrdom, Death Are The Allurements That Act On The Heart Of Man.

We Remove Mountains, And Make Seas Our Smooth Highway; Nothing Can Resist Us. We War With Rude Nature; And, By Our Resistless Engines, Come Off Always Victorious, And Loaded With Spoils.

The Weakest Living Creature, By Concentrating His Powers On A Single Object, Can Accomplish Something. The Strongest, By Dispensing His Over Many, May Fail To Accomplish Anything. The Drop, By Continually Falling, Bores Its Passage Through The Hardest Rock. The Hasty Torrent Rushes Over It With Hideous Uproar, And Leaves No Trace Behind.

If I Had My Way, The World Would Hear A Pretty Stern Command - Exit Christ.

Skepticism Means, Not Intellectual Doubt Alone, But Moral Doubt.

What Is Philosophy But A Continual Battle Against Custom?

Earnestness Alone Makes Life Eternity.

Today Is Not Yesterday: We Ourselves Change; How Can Our Works And Thoughts, If They Are Always To Be The Fittest, Continue Always The Same? Change, Indeed Is Painful; Yet Ever Needful; And If Memory Have Its Force And Worth, So Also Has Hope.

The Infinite, Absolute Character Of Virtue Has Passed Into A Finite, Conditional One; It Is No Longer A Worship Of The Beautiful And Good; But A Calculation Of The Profitable.

Love Not Pleasure; Love God.

Produce, Produce! Were It But The Pitifulest, Infinitesimal Fraction Of A Product, Produce It In God's Name. 'tis The Utmost Thou Hast In Thee? Out With It Then! Up, Up! Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do It With Thy Whole Might.

Democracy Is, By The Nature Of It, A Self-canceling Business: And Gives In The Long Run A Net Result Of Zero.

Histories Are As Perfect As The Historian Is Wise, And Is Gifted With An Eye And A Soul.

History, As It Lies At The Root Of All Science, Is Also The First Distinct Product Of Man's Spiritual Nature, His Earliest Expression Of What May Be Called Thought.

The Scandalous Bronze-lacquer Age Of Hungry Animalisms, Spiritual Impotences, And Mendacities, Will Have To Run Its Course, Till The Pit Follow It.

When New Turns Of Behavior Cease To Appear In The Life Of The Individual, Its Behavior Ceases To Be Intelligent.

Adversity Is The Diamond Dust Heaven Polishes Its Jewels With.

Insurrection, Never So Necessary, Is A Most Sad Necessity; And Governors Who Wait For That To Instruct Them Are Surely Getting Into The Fatalest Course.

Experience Takes Dreadfully High School-wages, But He Teaches Like No Other.

The First Purpose Of Clothes... Was Not Warmth Or Decency, But Ornament.... Among Wild People, We Find Tattooing And Painting Even Prior To Clothes. The First Spiritual Want Of A Barbarous Man Is Decoration; As Indeed We Still See Among The Barbarous Classes In Civilized Countries.

A Stammering Man Is Never A Worthless One. Physiology Can Tell You Why. It Is An Excess Of Sensibility To The Presence Of His Fellow Creature, That Makes Him Stammer.

Without Oblivion, There Is No Remembrance Possible. When Both Oblivion And Memory Are Wise, When The General Soul Of Man Is Clear, Melodious, True, There May Come A Modern Iliad As Memorial Of The Past.

And Yet Without Labour There Were No Ease, No Rest, So Much As Conceivable.

We Have Not The Love Of Greatness, But The Love Of The Love Of Greatness.

All True Work Is Sacred. In All True Work, Were It But True Hand Work, There Is Something Of Divineness. Labor, Wide As The Earth, Has Its Summit In Heaven.

No Sadder Proof Can Be Given By A Man Of His Own Littleness Than Disbelief In Great Men.

It Is A Fact Which Escapes No One, That, Generally Speaking, Whoso Is Acquainted With His Worth Has But A Little Stock To Cultivate Acquaintance With.

Culture Is The Process By Which A Person Becomes All That They Were Created Capable Of Being.

Every Man Is My Superior In That I May Learn From Him.

Piety Does Not Mean That A Man Should Make A Sour Face About Things, And Refuse To Enjoy In Moderation What His Maker Has Given.

It Is A Mathematical Fact That The Casting Of This Pebble From My Hand Alters The Centre Of Gravity Of The Universe.

Parliament Will Train You To Talk; And Above All Things To Hear, With Patience, Unlimited Quantities Of Foolish Talk.

See Deep Enough, And You See Musically.

Music And Healing

Silence, The Great Empire Of Silence: Higher Than All Stars; Deeper Than The Kingdom Of Death! It Alone Is Great; All Else Is Small.

He That Has A Secret Should Not Only Hide It, But Hide That He Has It To Hide.

There Are Remedies For All Things But Death.

Roguery Is Thought By Some To Be Cunning And Laughable: It Is Neither; It Is Devilish.

Let Me Have My Own Way In Exactly Everything And A Sunnier And Pleasanter Creature Does Not Exist.

The Aristocracy Of Feudal Parchment Has Passed Away With A Mighty Rushing, And Now, By A Natural Course, We Arrive At Aristocracy Of The Money-bag.

The Eye Of The Intellect "sees In All Objects What It Brought With It The Means Of Seeing."

I've Got A Great Ambition To Die Of Exhaustion Rather Than Boredom.

The Orator Persuades And Carries All With Him, He Knows Not How; The Rhetorician Can Prove That He Ought To Have Persuaded And Carried All With Him.

No Good Book, Or Good Thing Of Any Sort, Shows Its Best Face At First.

Clever Men Are Good, But They Are Not The Best.

Well Might The Ancients Make Silence A God; For It Is The Element Of All Godhood, Infinitude, Or Transcendental Greatness,--at Once The Source And The Ocean Wherein All Such Begins And Ends.

To The Wisest Man, Wide As Is His Vision. Nature Remains Of Quite Infinite Depth, Of Quite Infinite Expansion And All Experience Thereof Limits Itself To Some Few Computed Centuries And Measured Square Miles.

Is Not Cant The Materia Prima Of The Devil, From Which All Falsehoods, Imbecilities, Abominations, Body Themselves, From Which No True Thing Can Come? For Cant Is Itself The Properly A Double-distilled Lie, The Second Power Of A Lie.

All That A University Or Final Highest School. Can Do For Us Is Still But What The First School Began Doing--teach Us To Read. We Learn To Read In Various Languages, In Various Sciences; We Learn The Alphabet And Letters Of All Manner Of Books. But The Place Where We Are To Get Knowledge, Even Theoretic Knowledge, Is The Books Themselves. It Depends On What We Read, After All Manner Of Professors Have Done Their Best For Us. The True University Of These Days Is A Collection Of Books.

In The True Literary Man There Is Thus Ever, Acknowledged Or Not By The World, A Sacredness: He Is The Light Of The World; The World's Priest; -- Guiding It, Like A Sacred Pillar Of Fire, In Its Dark Pilgrimage Through The Waste Of Time.

No Age Seemed The Age Of Romance To Itself.

Wealth Has More And More Increased, And At The Same Time Gathered Itself More And More Into Masses, Strangely Altering The Old Relations, And Increasing The Distance Between The Rich And The Poor.

Every Human Being Has A Right To Hear What Other Wise Human Beings Have Spoken To Him. It Is One Of The Rights Of Men; A Very Cruel Injustice If You Deny It To A Man!

In No Time Whatever Can Small Critics Entirely Eradicate Out Of Living Men's Hearts A Certain Altogether Peculiar Collar Reverence For Great Men--genuine Admiration, Loyalty, Adora-tion.

A Vein Of Poetry Exists In The Hearts Of All Men.

The Fearful Unbelief Is Unbelief In Yourself.

Money, In Truth, Can Do Much, But It Cannot Do All. We Must Know The Province Of It, And Confine It There, And Even Spurn It Back When It Wishes To Get Farther.

The Lightning Spark Of Thought Generated In The Solitary Mind Awakens Its Likeness In Another Mind.

Speech Is Of Time, Silence Is Of Eternity.

Doubt Of Any Kind Cannot Be Resolved Except By Action.

Lies Exist Only To Be Extinguished.

And There Are Ben [jonson] And William Shakespeare In Wit-combat, Sure Enough; Ben Bearing Down Like A Mighty Spanish War-ship, Fraught With All Learning And Artillery; Shakespeare Whisking Away From Him - Whisking Right Through Him, Athwart The Big Bulk And Timbers Of Him; Like A Miraculous Celestial Light-ship, Woven All Of Sheet-lightning And Sunbeams!

The Wise Man Is But A Clever Infant, Spelling Letters From A Hieroglyphical Prophetic Book, The Lexicon Of Which Lies In Eternity.

To Be True Is Manly, Chivalrous, Christian; To Be False Is Mean, Cowardly, Devilish.

The Insignificant, The Empty, Is Usually The Loud; And After The Manner Of A Drum, Is Louder Even Because Of Its Emptiness.

The Graceful Minuet-dance Of Fancy Must Give Place To The Toilsome, Thorny Pilgrimage Of Understanding. On The Transition From The Age Of Romance To That Of Science.

Does Not Every True Man Feel That He Is Himself Made Higher By Doing Reverence To What Is Really Above Him?

Pin Thy Faith To No Man's Sleeve. Hast Thou Not Two Eyes Of Thy Own?

All History . . . Is An Inarticulate Bible.

Social Science, Is Not A 'gay Science' But Rueful, Which Finds The Secret Of This Universe In 'supply And Demand' And Reduces The Duty Of Human Governors To That Of Letting Men Alone. Not A 'gay Science', No, A Dreary, Desolate, And Indeed Quite Abject And Distressing One; What We Might Call, The Dismal Science

Skepticism, As I Said, Is Not Intellectual Only; It Is Moral Also; A Chronic Atrophy And Disease Of The Whole Soul. A Man Lives By Believing Something; Not By Debating And Arguing About Many Things. A Sad Case For Him When All That He Can Manage To Believe Is Something He Can Button In His Pocket, And With One Or The Other Organ Eat And Digest! Lower Than That He Will Not Get.

The Choking, Sweltering, Deadly, And Killing Rule Of No Rule; The Consecration Of Cupidity And Braying Of Folly, And Dim Stupidity And Baseness, In Most Of The Affairs Of Men. Slopshirts Attainable Three-halfpence Cheaper By The Ruin Of Living Bodies And Immortal Souls.

Pin Your Faith To No Ones Sleeves, Haven't You Two Eyes Of Your Own.

The Thing Is Not Only To Avoid Error, But To Attain Immense Masses Of Truth.

Great Men Are The Commissioned Guides Of Mankind, Who Rule Their Fellows Because They Are Wiser.

The Greatest Mistake Is To Imagine That We Never Err.

Alas! We Know That Ideals Can Never Be Completely Embodied In Practice. Ideals Must Ever Lie A Great Way Off--and We Will Thankfully Content Ourselves With Any Not Intolerable Approximation Thereto! Let No Man, As Schiller Says, Too Querulously "measure By A Scale Of Perfection The Meager Product Of Reality" In This Poor World Of Ours.

Man's Unhappiness, As I Construe, Comes Of His Greatness; It Is Because There Is An Infinite In Him, Which With All His Cunning He Cannot Quite Bury Under The Finite.

If An Eloquent Speaker Speak Not The Truth, Is There A More Horrid Kind Of Object In Creation?

A Background Of Wrath, Which Can Be Stirred Up To The Murderous Infernal Pitch, Does Lie In Every Man.

Show Me The Person You Honor, For I Know Better By That The Kind Of Person You Are. For You Show Me What Your Idea Of Humanity Is.

What The Light Of Your Mind, Which Is The Direct Inspiration Of The Almighty, Pronounces Incredible, That, In God's Name, Leave Uncredited. At Your Peril Do Not Try Believing That!

Literature Is The Thought Of Thinking Souls.

Not Brute Force But Only Persuasion And Faith Are The Kings Of This World.

Music Is Well Said To Be The Speech Of Angels; In Fact, Nothing Among The Utterances Allowed To Man Is Felt To Be So Divine. It Brings Us Near To The Infinite.

What Is All Knowledge Too But Recorded Experience, And A Product Of History; Of Which, Therefore, Reasoning And Belief, No Less Than Action And Passion, Are Essential Materials?

O Time! Time! How It Brings Forth And Devours! And The Roaring Flood Of Existence Rushes On Forever Similar, Forever Changing!

For Every One Hundred Men Who Can Stand Adversity There Is Only One Who Can Withstand Prosperity.

Coining "dismal Science" As A Nickname For Political Economy

Secrecy Is The Element Of All Goodness; Even Virtue, Even Beauty Is Mysterious.

Wonder Is The Basis Of Worship.

Fame, We May Understand, Is No Sure Test Of Merit, But Only A Probability Of Such; It Is An Accident, Not A Property Of Man.

Have A Purpose In Life, And Having It, Throw Into Your Work Such Strength Of Mind And Muscle As God Has Given You.

The Crash Of The Whole Solar And Stellar Systems Could Only Kill You Once.

Only The Person Of Worth Can Recognize The Worth In Others.

The True Sovereign Of The World, Who Moulds The World Like Soft Wax, According To His Pleasure, Is He Who Lovingly Sees Into The World.

The Difference Between Socrates And Jesus? The Great Conscious And The Immeasurably Great Unconscious.

Action Hangs, As It Were, Dissolved In Speech, In Thoughts Whereof Speech Is The Shadow; And Precipitates Itself Therefrom. The Kind Of Speech In A Man Betokens The Kind Of Action You Will Get From Him.

Virtue Is Like Health: The Harmony Of The Whole Man.

A Man Cannot Make A Pair Of Shoes Rightly Unless He Do It In A Devout Manner.

Who Is There That, In Logical Words, Can Express The Effect Music Has On Us?

Is Not Light Grander Than Fire? It Is The Same Element In A State Of Purity.

Labor, Wide As The Earth, Has Its Summit In Heaven.

There Is But One Thing Without Honor, Smitten With Eternal Barrenness, Inability To Do Or To Be,-insincerity, Unbelief.

The Great Silent Man! Looking Round On The Noisy Inanity Of The World,--words With Little Meaning, Actions With Little Worth,--one Loves To Reflect On The Great Empire Of Silence.

The Past Is Always Attractive Because It Is Drained Of Fear.

The All Importance Of Clothes Has Sprung Up In The Intellect Of The Dandy Without Effort, Like An Instinct Of Genius; He Is Inspired With Clothes, A Poet Of Clothes.

The Vulgarity Of Inanimate Things Requires Time To Get Accustomed To; But Living, Breathing, Bustling, Plotting, Planning, Human Vulgarity Is A Species Of Moral Ipecacuanha, Enough To Destroy Any Comfort.

In Every Man's Writings, The Character Of The Writer Must Lie Recorded.

The Outer Passes Away; The Innermost Is The Same Yesterday, Today, And Forever.

Laughter Means Sympathy.

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.

No Man Is Born Without Ambitious Worldly Desires.

Speech Is Human, Silence Is Divine, Yet Also Brutish And Dead: Therefore We Must Learn Both Arts.

Superstition! That Horrid Incubus Which Dwelt In Darkness, Shunning The Light, With All Its Racks, And Poison Chalices, And Foul Sleeping Draughts, Is Passing Away Without Return. Religion Cannot Pass Away. The Burning Of A Little Straw May Hide The Stars Of The Sky; But The Stars Are There And Will Reappear.

Nature Admits No Lie.

The Modern Majesty Consists In Work. What A Man Can Do Is His Greatest Ornament, And He Always Consults His Dignity By Doing It.

It Is In General More Profitable To Reckon Up Our Defeats Than To Boast Of Our Attainments.

Science Has Done Much For Us; But It Is A Poor Science That Would Hide From Us The Great Deep Sacred Infinitude Of Nescience, On Which All Science Swims As A Mere Superficial Film.

All Work Of Man Is As The Swimmer's: A Vast Ocean Threatens To Devour Him; If He Front It Not Bravely, It Will Keep Its Word.

Out Of The Lowest Depths There Is A Path To The Loftiest Heights.

The True University Of These Days Is A Collection Of Books.

Our Works Are The Mirror Wherein The Spirit First Sees Its Natural Lineaments. Hence, Too, The Folly Of That Impossible Precept, Know Theyself; Till It Be Translated Into This Partially Possible One, Know What Thou Canst Work At.

The English Are A Dumb People. They Can Do Great Acts, But Not Describe Them.

Song Is The Heroics Of Speech.

The Civil Authority, Or That Part Of It Which Remained Faithful To Their Trust And True To The Ends Of The Covenant, Did, In Answer To Their Consciences, Turn Out A Tyrant, In A Way Which The Christians In Aftertimes Will Mention With Honor, And All Tyrants In The World Look At With Fear.

Shakespeare Says, We Are Creatures That Look Before And After; The More Surprising That We Do Not Look Around A Little, And See What Is Passing Under Our Very Eyes.

All Greatness Is Unconscious, Or It Is Little And Naught.

All Human Things Do Require To Have An Ideal In Them; To Have Some Soul In Them.

The Great Soul Of This World Is Just.

No Conquest Can Ever Become Permanent Which Does Not Show Itself Beneficial To The Conquered As Well As To The Conquerors.

We Call It A Society; And Go About Professing Openly The Totalest Separation, Isolation. Our Life Is Not A Mutual Helpfulness; But Rather, Cloaked Under Due Laws-of-war, Named Fair Competition And So Forth, It Is A Mutual Hostility.

In A Symbol There Is Concealment And Yet Revelation: Here Therefore, By Silence And By Speech Acting Together, Comes A Double Significance.

There Is So Much Data Available To Us, But Most Data Won't Help Us Succeed.

The Soul Gives Unity To What It Looks At With Love.

Prayer Is And Remains Always A Native And Deepest Impulse Of The Soul Of Man.

There Is A Majesty And Mystery In Nature, Take Her As You Will. The Essence Of Poetry Comes Breathing To A Mind That Feels From Every Province Of Her Empire.

The Sincere Alone Can Recognize Sincerity.

Let Him Who Would Move And Convince Others, Be First Moved And Convinced Himself.

It's A Man's Sincerity And Depth Of Vision That Makes Him A Poet.

Thought Is The Parent Of The Deed.

History: A Distillation Of Rumor.

Narrative Is Linear, But Action Has Breadth And Depth As Well As Height And Is Solid.

I Know So Little About Any History. How Little Do I Know Even About The History Of Myself.

The All Of Things Is An Infinite Conjugation Of The Verb To Do .

Every Noble Crown Is, And On Earth Will Forever Be, A Crown Of Thorns.

No Man Sees Far, Most See No Farther Than Their Noses.

A Man Without A Goal Is Like A Ship Without A Rudder.

Rest Is A Fine Medicine. Let Your Stomachs Rest, Ye Dyspeptics; Let Your Brain Rest, You Wearied And Worried People Of Business; Let Your Limbs Rest, Ye Children Of Toil!

For Suffering And Enduring There Is No Remedy, But Striving And Doing.

Pain And Suffering

The First Sin In Our Universe Was Lucifer's Self Conceit.

Every Noble Work Is At First Impossible.

Inspirational Life

Give Us, O Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work! Be His Occupation What It May, He Is Equal To Any Of Those Who Follow The Same Pursuit In Silent Sullenness. He Will Do More In The Same Time . . . He Will Do It Better . . . He Will Persevere Longer. One Is Scarcely Sensible To Fatigue While He Marches To Music. The Very Stars Are Said To Make Harmony As They Revolve In Their Spheres.

But The Whim We Have Of Happiness Is Somewhat Thus. By Certain Valuations, And Averages, Of Our Own Striking, We Come Upon Some Sort Of Average Terrestrial Lot; This We Fancy Belongs To Us By Nature, And Of Indefeasible Rights. It Is Simple Payment Of Our Wages, Of Our Deserts; Requires Neither Thanks Nor Complaint. Foolish Soul! What Act Of Legislature Was There That Thou Shouldst Be Happy? A Little While Ago Thou Hadst No Right To Be At All.

Nothing Builds Self-esteem And Self-confidence Like Accomplishment.

There Are Depths In Man That Go To The Lowest Hell, And Heights That Reach The Highest Heaven, For Are Not Both Heaven And Hell Made Out Of Him, Everlasting Miracle And Mystery That He Is.

In Every Object There Is Inexhaustible Meaning; The Eye Sees In It What The Eye Brings Means Of Seeing.

Over The Times Thou Hast No Power. . . . Solely Over One Man Thou Hast Quite Absolute Power. Him Redeem And Make Honest.

There Are But Two Ways Of Paying Debt: Increase Of Industry In Raising Income, Increase Of Thrift In Laying Out.

There Is No Life Of A Man, Faithfully Recorded, But Is A Heroic Poem Of Its Sort, Rhymed Or Unrhymed.

Not What You Possess But What You Do With What You Have, Determines Your True Worth.

Overconsumption

Ill-health, Of Body Or Of Mind, Is Defeat. Health Alone Is Victory. Let All Men, If They Can Manage It, Contrive To Be Healthy!

The Most Unhappy Of All Men Is The Man Who Cannot Tell What He Is Going To Do, Who Has Got No Work Cut-out For Him In The World, And Does Not Go Into It. For Work Is The Grand Cure Of All The Maladies And Miseries That Ever Beset Mankind,honest Work, Which You Intend Getting Done.

Money Will Buy Money's Worth; But The Thing Men Call Fame, What Is It?

Time Has Only A Relative Existence.

Violence Does Even Justice Unjustly.

There Is In Man A Higher Than Love Of Happiness; He Can Do Without Happiness, And Instead Thereof Find Blessedness.

Man Is, And Was Always, A Block-head And Dullard; Much Readier To Feel And Digest, Than To Think And Consider.

A Strong Mind Always Hopes, And Has Always Cause To Hope.

Good Christian People, Here Lies For You An Inestimable Loan; Take All Heed Thereof, In All Carefulness, Employ It: With High Recompense, Or Else With Heavy Penalty, Will It One Day Be Required Back.

It Is Not To Taste Sweet Things; But To Do Noble And True Things, And Vindicate Himself Under God's Heaven As A God-made Man, That The Poorest Son Of Adam Dimly Longs. Show Him The Way Of Doing That, The Dullest Day-drudge Kindles Into A Hero. They Wrong Man Greatly Who Say He Is To Be Seduced By Ease. Difficulty, Abnegation, Martyrdom, Death, Are The Allurements That Act On The Heart Of Man. Kindle The Inner Genial Life Of Him, You Have A Flame That Burns Up All Lower Considerations.

Habit Is The Deepest Law Of Human Nature

Eyes Bright, With Many Tears, Behind Them.

Genius Is An Infinite Capacity For Taking Pains.

Man Is A Tool-using Animal.

A Man's Felicity Consists Not In The Outward And Visible Blessing Of Fortune, But In The Inward And Unseen Perfections And Riches Of The Mind.

We Have Not Read An Author Till We Have Seen His Object, Whatever It May Be, As He Saw It.

Habit And Imitation--there Is Nothing More Perennial In Us Than These Two. They Are The Source Of All Working, And All Apprenticeship, Of All Practice, And All Learning, In This World.

Not Only Was Thebes Built By The Music Of An Orpheus; But Without The Music Of Some Inspired Orpheus Was No City Ever Built, No Work That Man Glories In Ever Done.

Labor Is Life: From The Inmost Heart Of The Worker Rises His God-given Force, The Sacred Celestial Life-essence Breathed Into Him By Almighty God!

In Private Life I Never Knew Anyone Interfere With Other People's Disputes But He Heartily Repented Of It.

Humor Has Justly Been Regarded As The Finest Perfection Of Poetic Genius.

A Man With A Half Volition Goes Backwards And Forwards, And Makes No Way On The Smoothest Road; A Man With A Whole Volition Advances On The Roughest, And Will Reach His Purpose, If There Be Even A Little Worthiness In It. The Man Without A Purpose Is Like A Ship Without A Rudder - A Waif, A Nothing, A No Man. Have A Purpose In Life And Having It, Throw Such Strength Of Mind And Muscle Into Your Work As God Has Given You.

Infinite Is The Help Man Can Yield To Man.

A Person Who Is Gifted Sees The Essential Point And Leaves The Rest As Surplus.

Focus And Concentration

It Is Great, And There Is No Other Greatness-to Make One Nook Of God's Creation More Fruitful, Better, More Worthy Of God; To Make Some Human Heart A Little Wiser, Manlier, Happier-more Blessed.

Respectable Professors Of The Dismal Science.

This London City, With All Of Its Houses, Palaces, Steam-engines, Cathedrals, And Huge Immeasurable Traffic An Tumult, What Is It But A Thought, But Millions Of Thoughts Made Into One-a Huge Immeasurable Spirit Of A Thought, Embodied In Brick, In Iron, Smoke, Dust, Palaces, Parliaments, Hackney Coaches, Katherine Docks, And The Rest Of It! Not A Brick Was Made But Some Man Had To Think Of The Making Of That Brick.

Woe To Him That Claims Obedience When It Is Not Due; Woe To Him That Refuses It When It Is.

Nakedness, Hunger, Distress Of All Kinds, Death Itself Have Been Cheerfully Suffered, When The Heart Was Right. It Is The Feeling Of Injustice That Is Insupportable To All Men.

France Was Long A Despotism Tempered By Epigrams.

Man Is Emphatically A Proselytizing Creature.

I Have Seen Gleams In The Face And Eyes Of The Man That Have Let You Look Into A Higher Country.

To Believe Practically That The Poor And Luckless Are Here Only As A Nusiance To Be Abraded And Abated, And In Some Permissable Manner Made Away With, And Swept Out Of Sight, Is Not An Amiable Faith.

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?

This We Take It Is The Grand Characteristic Of Our Age. By Our Skill In Mechanism, It Has Come To Pass, That In The Management Ofexternal Things We Excel All Other Ages; While In Whatever Respects The Pure Moral Nature, In True Dignity Of Soul And Character, We Are Perhaps Inferior To Most Civilised Ages.

In A Different Time, In A Different Place, It Is Always Some Other Side Of Our Common Human Nature That Has Been Developing Itself. The Actual Truth Is The Sum Of All These.

That There Should One Man Die Ignorant Who Had Capacity For Knowledge, This I Call A Tragedy.

Oh, Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work.

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