A merry heart does good like a medicine: but a broken spirit dries the bones.
My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue sticks to my jaws; and you have brought me into the dust of death.
Heaviness in the heart of man makes it stoop: but a good word makes it glad.
A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance: but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.
Pleasant words are as an honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.
The spirit of a man will sustain his infirmity; but a wounded spirit who can bear?
I said of laughter, It is mad: and of mirth, What does it?
So that contrariwise you ought rather to forgive him, and comfort him, lest perhaps such a one should be swallowed up with overmuch sorrow.
For godly sorrow works repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world works death.