Study Desk

And I find more bitter than death the woman who is a trap, her heart a net, and her hands chains. The one who pleases God will escape her, but the sinner will be captured by her.

which my soul continually searches for but does not find: among a thousand people I have found one true man, but among all these I have not found a true woman.

Only see this: I have discovered that God made people upright, but they pursued many schemes."

But there is hope for whoever is joined with all the living, since a live dog is better than a dead lion.

For the living know that they will die, but the dead don't know anything. There is no longer a reward for them because the memory of them is forgotten.

And I said, "Wisdom is better than strength, but the wisdom of the poor man is despised, and his words are not heeded."

Wisdom is better than weapons of war, but one sinner can destroy much good.

A wise man's heart goes to the right, but a fool's heart to the left.

The fool is appointed to great heights, but the rich remain in lowly positions.

I have seen slaves on horses, but princes walking on the ground like slaves.

The words from the mouth of a wise man are gracious, but the lips of a fool consume him.

The beginning of the words of his mouth is folly, but the end of his speaking is evil madness.

Rejoice, young man, while you are young, and let your heart be glad in the days of your youth. And walk in the ways of your heart and in the sight of your eyes; but know that for all of these things God will bring you to judgment.

But beyond these, my son, be warned: there is no end to the making of many books, and much study wearies the body.

In my bed at night I sought the one I love; I sought him, but did not find him.

I will arise now and go about the city, through the streets and the plazas. I will seek the one I love. I sought him, but did not find him.

W I sleep, but my heart is awake. A sound! My love is knocking! M Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my perfect one. For my head is drenched with dew, my hair with droplets of the night.

I opened to my love, but my love had turned and gone away. I was crushed that he had left. I sought him, but did not find him. I called him, but he did not answer.

But my dove, my virtuous one, is unique; she is the favorite of her mother, perfect to the one who gave her birth. Women see her and declare her fortunate; queens and concubines also, and they sing her praises:

I have my own vineyard. The 1,000 are for you, Solomon, but 200 for those who guard its fruits.