“No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem.”

— Booker T. Washington , book Up from Slavery

Chapter XIV: The Atlanta Exposition Address http://books.google.com/books?id=xN45ZsUMgKEC&q=%22No+race+can+prosper+till+it+learns+that+there+is+as+much+dignity+in+tilling+a+field+as+in+writing+a+poem+It+is+at+the+bottom+of+life+we+must+begin+and+not+at+the+top%22&pg=PA220#v=onepage
1900s, Up From Slavery (1901)
Context: No race can prosper till it learns that there is as much dignity in tilling a field as in writing a poem. It is at the bottom of life we must begin, and not at the top.

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Booker T. Washington 48

African-American educator, author, orator, and advisor 1856–1915

Mignon McLaughlin (1913–1983) American journalist

The Complete Neurotic's Notebook (1981), Unclassified

“Till we came to be
There was not a trace
Of a thinking race
Anywhere in space.”

Robert Frost (1874–1963) American poet

"Kitty Hawk
1960s

“Idleness is the open field of perdition, well tilled and sown with evil thoughts.”

Mateo Alemán book Guzmán de Alfarache

Pt. II, Lib. II, Ch. VI.
Guzmán de Alfarache (1599-1604)

“No one can be perfectly free till all are free; no one can be perfectly moral till all are moral; no one can be perfectly happy till all are happy.”

Herbert Spencer book Social Statics

Pt. IV, Ch. 30 : General Considerations
Social Statics (1851)

“I am not at all in a humor for writing; I must write on till I am.”

Jane Austen (1775–1817) English novelist

“If I waited till I felt like writing, I'd never write at all.”

Anne Tyler (1941) American novelist

“Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
And after many a summer dies the swan.”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892) British poet laureate

" Tithonus http://home.att.net/%7ETennysonPoetry/tith.htm", st. 1 (1860)
Context: The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,
The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,
Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath,
And after many a summer dies the swan.
Me only cruel immortality
Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms,
Here at the quiet limit of the world,
A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a dream
The ever-silent spaces of the East,
Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn.