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Besides my daylight servitude, I served over again all night in my sleep, and would awake with terrors of imaginary false entries, errors in my accounts, and the like.

Independently of the rigours of attendance, I have ever been haunted with a sense (perhaps a mere caprice) of incapacity for business.

It is Lucretian pleasure to behold the poor drudges, whom I have left behind in the world, carking and caring; like horses in a mill, drudging on in the same eternal round--and what is it all for?

The phantom of the next day, with the dreary five to follow, sate as a load upon my poor Sabbath recreations.

Now, old age is as it were the playing out of the drama, the full fatigue of which we should shun, especially when we also feel that we have had more than enough of it.

The third is, that it is folly to wear one's self out with grief which can avail nothing.

If you have assumed a character beyond your strength, you have both played a poor figure in that, and neglected one that is within your powers.

The outlook was cheerless indeed, but much work had to be done and we could not yield to the desire to remain in the sleeping-bags.

There are some men who will do more than their share of work and who will attempt more than they are physically able to accomplish.

As he sat gazing into the clear running of the water, Archibald Craven gradually felt his mind and body both grow quiet, as quiet as the valley itself.

The hardships and dangers involved in the struggle give strength and toughness to the character, and enable it to stand firm in storm as well as in sunshine.

My fellow Americans, our long national nightmare is over.

Theirs is an American tragedy in which we all have played a part. It could go on and on and on, or someone must write the end to it.

Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

The strong man who in the confidence of sturdy health courts the sternest activities of life and rejoices in the hardihood of constant labor may still have lurking near his vitals the unheeded disease that dooms him to sudden collapse.

The tedium of that work is hard to conceive.

To sleep is to strain and purify our emotions, to deposit the mud of life, to calm the fever of the soul

The place of sorrow is supplied, perchance, by a certain hard and proportionately barren indifference.

Our life is frittered away by detail

Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees.

Thousands of God's wild blessings will search you and soak you as if you were sponge, and the big days will go by uncounted.

Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity

Fatigue yourself, but once, to utter exhaustion, and to the end of life you shall not recover the former vigour of your frame.

Let heart-sickness pass beyond a certain bitter point, and the heart loses its life for ever.

I seemed to have nothing left to live for.