Between dawn and sunset many people are broken to pieces; without being noticed, they die and are gone forever.
One nation would destroy another nation, and one city would destroy another city, because God troubled them with all kinds of distress.
Jehoram was thirty-two years old when he became king, and he ruled eight years in Jerusalem. No one was sad when he died. He was buried in Jerusalem, but not in the graves for the kings.
Will the dead live again? All my days are a struggle; I will wait until my change comes.
We grow up like flowers and then dry up and die. We are like a passing shadow that does not last.
You defeat people forever, and they are gone; you change their appearance and send them away.
“Only a few years will pass before I go on the journey of no return.
People on earth will not remember them; their names will be forgotten in the land.
but they will be gone forever, like their own dung. People who knew them will say, ‘Where are they?’
But he died and was gone; I looked for him, but he couldn’t be found.
Leave me alone so I can be happy before I leave and am no more.”
Wicked people grow like the grass. Evil people seem to do well, but they will be destroyed forever.
Good people will be remembered as a blessing, but evil people will soon be forgotten.