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• No, misery does not grow out of the soil, nor sorrow spring from the ground. (Job 5, 6)

• Hope springs afresh for the weak, and wickedness must shut its mouth. (Job 5, 16)

• If only my misery could be weighed, and all my ills be put together on the scales! (Job 6, 2)

• But they outweigh the sands of the seas: what wonder then if my words are wild? (Job 6, 3)

• Is not food insipid, eaten without salt, is there any taste in egg-white? (Job 6, 6)

• But the very things my appetite revolts at are now my diet in sickness. (Job 6, 7)

• But have I the strength to go on waiting? And why be patient, when doomed to such an end? (Job 6, 11)

• but, come the burning summer, they run dry, they vanish in the heat of the sun. (Job 6, 17)

• Put me right, and I shall say no more; show me where I have been at fault. (Job 6, 24)

• Fair comment can be borne without resentment, but what are your strictures aimed at? (Job 6, 25)

• Like a slave, sighing for the shade, or a hireling with no thought but for his wages, (Job 7, 2)

• I have months of futility assigned to me, nights of suffering to be my lot. (Job 7, 3)