Doth a fountain send forth, out of the same hole, sweet and bitter water?
As a cistern maketh its water cold, so hath she made her wickedness cold. Violence and spoil shall be heard in her: infirmity and stripes are continually before me.
Out of the same mouth proceedeth blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not so to be.
Can the fig tree, my brethren, bear grapes; or the vine, figs? So neither can the salt water yield sweet.