Boast not thyself of tomorrow;
For thou knowest not what a day may bring forth.
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As vinegar to the teeth,
And as smoke to the eyes,
So is the sluggard to them that send him.
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All the brethren of the poor do hate him:
How much more do his friends go far from him!
He pursueth them with words, but they are gone.
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The getting of treasures by a lying tongue
Is a vapour driven to and fro;
They that seek them seek death.
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As one that taketh off a garment in cold weather,
And as vinegar upon nitre,
So is he that singeth songs to an heavy heart.