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Go to the ant, O sluggard;
consider her ways, and be wise.
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How long will you lie there, O sluggard?
When will you arise from your sleep?
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Like vinegar to the teeth and smoke to the eyes,
so is the sluggard to those who send him.
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The soul of the sluggard craves and gets nothing,
while the soul of the diligent is richly supplied.
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The way of a sluggard is like a hedge of thorns,
but the path of the upright is a level highway.
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The sluggard buries his hand in the dish
and will not even bring it back to his mouth.
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The sluggard does not plow in the autumn;
he will seek at harvest and have nothing.
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The desire of the sluggard kills him,
for his hands refuse to labor.
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The sluggard says, “There is a lion outside!
I shall be killed in the streets!”
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I passed by the field of a sluggard,
by the vineyard of a man lacking sense,
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The sluggard says, “There is a lion in the road!
There is a lion in the streets!”
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As a door turns on its hinges,
so does a sluggard on his bed.
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The sluggard buries his hand in the dish;
it wears him out to bring it back to his mouth.
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The sluggard is wiser in his own eyes
than seven men who can answer sensibly.