And he took a potsherd to scrape himself while he was sitting among the ashes.

My strength is dried up like a potsherd, And my tongue cleaves to my jaws; And You lay me in the dust of death.

Like an earthen vessel overlaid with silver dross Are burning lips and a wicked heart.

Whose collapse is like the smashing of a potter's jar, So ruthlessly shattered That a sherd will not be found among its pieces To take fire from a hearth Or to scoop water from a cistern."

Whose collapse is like the smashing of a potter's jar, So ruthlessly shattered That a sherd will not be found among its pieces To take fire from a hearth Or to scoop water from a cistern."

"Woe to the one who quarrels with his Maker-- An earthenware vessel among the vessels of earth! Will the clay say to the potter, 'What are you doing?' Or the thing you are making say, 'He has no hands'?