And Job made answer and said,
If only my passion might be measured, and put into the scales against my trouble!
For then its weight would be more than the sand of the seas: because of this my words have been uncontrolled.
For the arrows of the Ruler of all are present with me, and their poison goes deep into my spirit: his army of fears is put in order against me.
Does the ass of the fields give out his voice when he has grass? or does the ox make sounds over his food?
Will a man take food which has no taste without salt? or is there any taste in the soft substance of purslain?
My soul has no desire for such things, they are as disease in my food.