Ecclesiastes

The Preacher opens with a striking image: dead flies ruin the perfumer's ointment, and so a little folly ruins the reputation of someone known for wisdom and honor. The wise man's heart is at his right hand; the fool's heart at his left. And when the fool walks down the road, his understanding fails him and he shows everyone he is a fool. When the ruler's anger rises against you, do not leave your place — yielding pacifies great offenses. The Preacher has observed an evil under the sun, an error proceeding from the ruler: folly set in positions of great dignity, and capable men sitting in low places. He has seen servants on horseback and princes walking on the ground like servants. He adds a cluster of hazard proverbs: the one who digs a pit will fall into it; the one who breaks through a hedge will be bitten by a serpent; the one who quarries stones will be hurt by them; the one who splits wood is endangered by it. If the blade is dull and you don't sharpen it, you must use more force — but wisdom is profitable to direct. The serpent will bite without a charmer's spell, and a babbler is no different. The words of the wise are gracious, but the fool's lips swallow him up. His talk begins as foolishness and ends as mischievous madness. He is full of words, though no one can tell what is coming or what will happen after. The fool's labor wearies him because he doesn't even know how to get to the city. Woe to a land whose king is a child and whose princes feast in the morning. Blessed is the land whose king is of noble character and whose princes eat at the proper time — for strength, not drunkenness. Through slothfulness the building decays; through idleness of the hands the house caves in. A feast is made for laughter, wine makes life merry — but money answers everything. Do not curse the king, even in your thoughts, and do not curse the rich even in your private chamber — for a bird of the air will carry your voice, and that which has wings will tell the matter.