There is one man, no more but himself alone, having neither child nor brother: yet is there no end of his careful travail, his eyes cannot be satisfied with riches. Yet, doth he not remember himself, and say, "For whom do I take such travail? For whose pleasure do I thus consume away my life?" This is also a vain and miserable thing.

He that loveth money, will never be satisfied with money: and whoso delighteth in riches, shall have no profit thereof. Is not this also a vain thing?

Whereas many riches are, there are many also that spend them away. And what pleasure more hath he that possesseth them, saving that he may look upon them with his eyes?

Yet is there a sore plague, which I have seen under the sun: namely, riches kept to the hurt of him that hath them in possession.

For unto whomsoever God giveth riches, goods and power, he giveth it him to enjoy it, to take it for his portion, and to be refreshed of his labour: this is now the gift of God.

When God giveth a man riches, goods and honour, so that he wanteth nothing of all that his heart can desire, and yet God giveth him not leave to enjoy the same, but another man spendeth them. This is a vain thing and a miserable plague.

Wisdom is better than riches; yea, much more worth than the eyesight.

So I turned me unto other things under the Sun, and I saw that in running it helpeth not to be swift; in battle it helpeth not to be strong; to feeding it helpeth not to be wise; to riches, it helpeth not to be suttle; to be had in favour, it helpeth not to be cunning: but that all lieth in time and fortune.