The one who loves money is never satisfied with money, Nor the one who loves wealth with big profits. More smoke.
The more loot you get, the more looters show up. And what fun is that - to be robbed in broad daylight?
Hard and honest work earns a good night's sleep, Whether supper is beans or steak. But a rich man's belly gives him insomnia.
Here's a piece of bad luck I've seen happen: A man hoards far more wealth than is good for him
And then loses it all in a bad business deal. He fathered a child but hasn't a cent left to give him.
He arrived naked from the womb of his mother; He'll leave in the same condition - with nothing.
This is bad luck, for sure - naked he came, naked he went. So what was the point of working for a salary of smoke?
All for a miserable life spent in the dark?