Yea, they have not been planted. Yea, they have not been sown. Yea, their stock has not taken root in the earth. Moreover he blows upon them, and they wither, and the whirlwind takes them away as stubble.
These are reefs in your love-feasts, feasting together, fearlessly tending to themselves, waterless clouds carried along by winds, autumn trees without fruit, who died twice having being uprooted,
What could have been done more to my vineyard that I have not done in it? Why, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, it brought forth wild grapes?