I Could Not Conjure Up One Melancholy

He Is Very Imprudent, A Dog; He Never Makes It His Business To Inquire Whether You Are In The Right Or The Wrong, Never Asks Whether You Are Rich Or Poor, Silly Or Wise, Sinner Or Saint. You Are His Pal. That Is Enough For Him.

Man, If He Would Live, Must Worship. He Looks Around, And What To Him, Within The Vision Of His Life, Is The Greatest And The Best, That He Falls Down And Does Reverence To.

I Can't Sit Still And See Another Man Slaving And Working. I Want To Get Up And Superintend, And Walk Round With My Hands In My Pockets, And Tell Him What To Do. It Is My Energetic Nature. I Can't Help It.

There Is No Fun In Doing Nothing When You Have Nothing To Do. Wasting Time Is Merely An Occupation Then, And A Most Exhausting One.

I Like Work; It Fascinates Me. I Can Sit And Look At It For Hours.