It is not work that kills men; it is worry. Work is healthy; you could hardly put more upon a man than he can bear. Worry is rust upon the blade. It is not the revolution that destroys the machinery, but the friction.—Beecher.
World.—The world is a country which nobody ever yet knew by description; one must travel through it one's self to be acquainted with it. The scholar, who in the dust of his closet talks or writes of the world, knows no more of it than that orator did of war, who judiciously endeavored to instruct Hannibal in it.—Chesterfield.
To know the world, not love her, is thy point;
She gives but little, nor that little long.
—Young.
I am not at all uneasy that I came into, and have so far passed my course in this world; because I have so lived in it that I have reason to believe I have been of some use to it; and when the close comes, I shall quit life as I would an inn, and not as a real home. For nature appears to me to have ordained this station here for us, as a place of sojournment, a transitory abode only, and not as a fixed settlement or permanent habitation.—Cicero.
The world is a fine thing to save, but a wretch to worship.—George Macdonald.
The world is a bride superbly dressed; who weds her, for a dowry must pay his soul.—Hafiz.
O who would trust this world, or prize what's in it,
That gives and takes, and chops and changes, ev'ry minute?
—Quarles.
This world is God's world, after all.—Charles Kingsley.
There is another and a better world.—Kotzebue.
God, we are told, looked upon the world after he had created it and pronounced it good; but ascetic pietists, in their wisdom, cast their eyes over it, and substantially pronounce it a dead failure, a miserable production, a poor concern.—Bovee.