If You Wish To Be Miserable, Think

So Fleet The Works Of Men, Back To Their Earth Again;ancient And Holy Things Fade Like A Dream.

[at The End Of The Story, Its Main Character, Tom] Is Now A Great Man Of Science, And Can Plan Railroads, And Steam-engines, And Electric Telegraphs, And Rifled Guns, And So Forth; And Knows Everything About Everything, Except Why A Hen's Egg Don't Turn Into A Crocodile, And Two Or Three Other Little Things That No One Will Know Till The Coming Of The Cocqcigrues.

Being Forced To Work, And Forced To Do Your Best, Will Breed In You Temperance And Self-control, Diligence And Strength Of Will, Cheerfulness And Content, And A Hundred Virtues Which The Idle Will Never Know.

Do What Thou Dost As If The Earth Were Heaven, And Thy Last Day The Day Of Judgment.

I Can Conceive Few Human States More Enviable Than That Of The Man To Whom, Panting In The Foul Laboratory, Or Watching For His Life Under The Tropic Forest, Isis Shall For A Moment Lift Her Sacred Veil, And Show Him, Once And For Ever, The Thing He Dreamed Not Of; Some Law, Or Even Mere Hint Of A Law, Explaining One Fact; But Explaining With It A Thousand More, Connecting Them All With Each Other And With The Mighty Whole, Till Order And Meaning Shoots Through Some Old Chaos Of Scattered Observations.