A cheerful heart makes good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.
My strength is dried up like a potsherd. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. You have brought me into the dust of death.
Anxiety in a man's heart weighs it down, but a kind word makes it glad.
A glad heart makes a cheerful face; but an aching heart breaks the spirit.
Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul, and health to the bones.
A man's spirit will sustain him in sickness, but a crushed spirit, who can bear?
I said of laughter, *It is foolishness;* and of mirth, *What does it accomplish?*
so that on the contrary you should rather forgive him and comfort him, lest by any means such a one should be swallowed up with his excessive sorrow.
For godly sorrow works repentance to salvation, which brings no regret. But the sorrow of the world works death.