The sun rises and the sun sets, then hurries around to rise again.
The wind blows south, and then turns north. Around and around it goes, blowing in circles.
Rivers run into the sea, but the sea is never full. Then the water returns again to the rivers and flows out again to the sea.
Everything is wearisome beyond description. No matter how much we see, we are never satisfied. No matter how much we hear, we are not content.
History merely repeats itself. It has all been done before. Nothing under the sun is truly new.
Sometimes people say, “Here is something new!” But actually it is old; nothing is ever truly new.
We don’t remember what happened in the past, and in future generations, no one will remember what we are doing now.