What hath man more of his labour?
What hath a man more of all his labour, that he taketh under the sun?
All the days of his life he eateth in darkness, and in many cares, and in misery, and sorrow.
In much work there shall be abundance: but where there are many words, there is oftentimes want.
For what doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his own soul? Or what exchange shall a man give for his soul?
And when I turned myself to all the works which my hands had wrought, and to the labours wherein I had laboured in vain, I saw in all things vanity, and vexation of mind, and that nothing was lasting under the sun.
That you also be subject to such, and to every one that worketh with us, and laboureth.