Work (n.) is where the bondsman, who seemed to have only an alienated existence, acquires a mind of his own.
Work (n.) is desire held in check, fleetingness staved off — it forms and shapes the thing.
Work (n.) is where consciousness turns into what it truly is — and its empty notion of itself disappears.
Work (n.) changes the worker: in making things over to fit our designs we create a lasting reflection of ourselves and become what it reflects.
Work (n.) is something perishable, obliterated by the counter-action of other forces and interests — it exhibits the reality of the self as vanishing rather than as achieved.
Work (n.) done with heart and soul, no matter how trivial, makes a man one with it, as if he existed for that alone — and that oneness is the charm of genre painting.
Work (n.) transforming the natural world into a technical one is how the slave escapes the nature that enslaved him because he could not rise above it by accepting death.
Work (n.) that is bad is no work at all — the consolation of a purpose merely willed, or the satisfaction of having given others something to do.
Work (n.) was the punishment for the Fall in Genesis, but is it a punishment? Hegel asks: work, transforming the world and so oneself, is what distinguishes man from the beasts and makes him free.