And I thought that the dead, who had already died, were more fortunate than the living, who were still alive.
So I began to hate life, because the labor that was done under the sun was contemptible to me, for all of this is vanity and a chasing after wind.
A good name is better than precious oil, and the day of one’s death than one’s birth.
Do not weep for the dead nor bemoan him, but weep constantly for him who goes away; for he will return no more nor see his native country.