In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even! and at even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning! for the fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see.
You will be driven mad by what you see.
So I have been made to inherit months of futility, and troubled nights have been assigned to me.
When I lie down I think: When will I get up? But the evening drags on endlessly, and I toss and turn until dawn.
In those days people will seek death and will not find it; they will long to die, but death will flee from them.