John Armstrong - Toil Quotes

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He chooses best, whose labor entertains
His vacant fancy most; the toil you hate
Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your limbs.

John Armstrong

Much toil demands; the lean elastic less.
While winter chills the blood and binds the veins,
No labors are too hard; by those you 'scape
The slow diseases of the torpid year,
Endless to name.

John Armstrong

Toil, and be strong; by toil the flaccid nerves
Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone:
The greener juices are by toil subdued,
Mellow'd, and subtilis'd; the vapid old
Expell'd, and all the rancor of the blood.

John Armstrong

How happy he whose toil
Has o'er his languid pow'rless limbs diffus'd
A pleasing lassitude; he not in vain
Invokes the gentle Deity of dreams.
His pow'rs the most voluptuously dissolve
In soft repose; on him the balmy dews
Of Sleep with double nutriment descend.

John Armstrong