The wind goeth toward the South and turneth unto the North, fetcheth his compass, whirleth about, and goeth forth and returneth again to his circuits from whence he did come.

And look whatsoever mine eyes desired, I let them have it: and wherein soever my heart delighted, or had any pleasure, I withheld it not from it. Thus my heart rejoiced in all that I did, and this I took for the portion of all my travail.

Wherefore I judged those that are dead, to be more happy than such as be alive.

And why? As long as a man liveth, he is careless: for a quick dog, say they, is better than a dead lion.

For they that be living, know that they shall die: but they that be dead, know nothing, neither deserve they anymore. For their memorial is forgotten,

Whatsoever thou takest in hand to do, that do with all thy power: for among the dead, where thou goest unto, there is neither work, counsel, knowledge nor wisdom.

Dead flies corrupt sweet ointment and make it to stink. Even so, oft times, he that hath been had in estimation for wisdom and honour is abhorred because of a little foolishness.