Extremes meet', as the whiting said with its tail in its mouth.
To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.
What is mind? No matter. What is matter? Never mind. What is the soul? It is immaterial.
The year's in wane; There is nothing adorning; The night has no eve, And the day has no morning; Cold winter gives warning!
Comfort and indolence are cronies.
No blessed leisure for love or hope, But only time for grief.