Weariness can snore upon the flint when resting sloth finds the down pillow hard.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feelings as to sight?
So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.
Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.