Much less from the same aperture does a fountain bubble out sweet and bitter?
As a pit, letting flow her waters, so she dug up her evil: violence and oppression will be heard in her; upon my face continually disease and smiting.
Out of the same month comes forth blessing and cursing. There is no need, my brethren, for these things so to be.
The fig tree, my brethren, cannot make olives, or the vine, figs: so no fountain can make salt and sweet water.