It is necessary to work, if not from inclination, at least from despair. Everything considered, work is less boring than amusing oneself.

Nothing is as tedious as the limping days,When snowdrifts yearly cover all the ways,And ennui, sour fruit of incurious gloom,Assumes control of fate’s immortal loom

The mixture of the grotesque and the tragic is agreeable to the spirit, as are discords to the jaded ear.

Everything considered, work is less boring than amusing oneself.