Comfort and indolence are cronies.
Oh would I were dead now, Or up in my bed now, To cover my head now, And have a good cry!
O bed! O bed! delicious bed! That heaven upon earth to the weary head.
I resolved that, like the sun, as long as my day lasted, I would look on the bright side of everything.
When was ever honey made with one bee in a hive?
Fuss is the froth of business.