And Jacob said unto Pharaoh, The days of the years of my pilgrimage are a hundred and thirty years: few and evil have been the days of the years of my life, and they have not attained unto the days of the years of the life of my fathers in the days of their pilgrimage.
But man is born unto trouble, As the sparks fly upward.
Are not my days few? cease then, And let me alone, that I may take comfort a little,
What is man, that he should be clean? And he that is born of a woman, that he should be righteous?
I am pained and bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day long.
For all his days are (but) sorrows, and his travail is grief; yea, even in the night his heart taketh no rest. This also is vanity.