15 So that my soul chooseth strangling, death, rather than my bones.
16 I loathe it; I shall not live always: let me alone, for my days are a breath.
17 What is man, that thou makest much of him? and that thou settest thy heart upon him?
18 And that thou visitest him every morning, triest him every moment?
19 How long wilt thou not look away from me, nor let me alone till I swallow down my spittle?
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